


Demon Barber Sweeney Todd

by salamandersaladman



Category: Hamilton - Miranda
Genre: F/M, I'll add more tags before each chapter as they become applicable, I'm sorry I'll stop, M/M, Mentions of Rape, Mildly violent, Sweenexander Toddington, Sweeney Todd - Freeform, Sweeney Todd AU, mentions of abuse, pretty gay
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-05-04
Updated: 2016-05-26
Packaged: 2018-06-06 07:40:21
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence, Major Character Death, Rape/Non-Con
Chapters: 10
Words: 33,946
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/6745312
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/salamandersaladman/pseuds/salamandersaladman
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>"It's man devouring man, my dear Laurens, and who are we to deny it in here?"</p><p>In which your favorite bastard orphan is also a bloody demon barber</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. I Have Sailed the World

**Author's Note:**

> Okay so I couldn't resist after seeing the Sweeney Todd performance, its one of my original favorite musicals. The casting is a bit different than in the song however, and the ending a bit different from the original Sweeney. Just aspects of both, and me having fun with it! Different chapters will have different points of view.

 

It was unusual to be a sailor and a woman, and even more unusual to captain as one. But Theodosia Alston Burr had always been a woman of the sea. She loved the way the vicious winds ravaged her hair, the way the salt tasted on her skin. Her father had taken her by ocean from country to country throughout her adolescence, leaving her with an insatiable wanderlust that refused to be quenched even after his retirement. He had advised her against traveling alone initially, but upon realizing she would not be persuaded, he went about finding her a crew and ship of her own.

  
"It will not be easy Theo," he'd gently warned her, "getting seasoned sea men to heed your orders. You are half their age and they will always see you first and foremost, as a woman."

  
But oh, Theodosia knew she would prove them wrong. Her father had suggested a cruel and strict command as captain to quickly reel them in, but she wanted their respect not their fear. 

  
"Gentlemen," she had stood on the upper deck before the maiden voyage of _Patriot_ , her sleek and shiny ship. Her crew were much less pleasant to look upon, eyes hard with anger. "I am aware that a female captain must wound your pride." There were some scoffs, mostly cold silence, and she attempted to keep her voice steady. "However I will do my best to earn your trust and prove to you that I am every bit as capable as a man."

She gave a nod and the ropes were cut, the oarsmen below deck beginning to churn Patriot out of the harbor. Theo had wanted to keep her speech brief, knowing she had many long months ahead, and no amount of words would undo the damage of having to take orders from a woman.  _ They will see, I am not some helpless maiden. I have been on the ocean since I could walk. My gender and education don't make me any less a seawoman. _

  
And so, setting sail on her first voyage as captain, she had resolved to let her wit do the persuading for her. She knew by instinct the right maneuvers to avoid capsizing in a terrible storm one night, she knew by logic the quicker route would often be an unconventional one. And once, when boarded by low-rent pirates, she knew by courage alone that it was a fight they could win.

  
It was easily the most difficult night of her life, when they had come aboard. The thick rolling fog had prevented anyone from seeing that ominous black flag until it was too late. With cannons aimed at _Patriot_ , the crew could only stand in horror as the raggedly men climbed aboard.

  
A tall, hearty man with a long brown beard who was clearly in command stood front and center, sizing up the boat, _her_ boat, with beady little eyes.Theodosia was deadly afraid, but her fury won out. _This is my boat and my crew._ She was used to being underestimated, and that mistake would cost these men their lives.

  
Without hesitation she stepped forth, eliciting a small gasp from some of her men. In the case of an invasion, it was typical for the captain to remain locked in his bunk, the crew protecting him at all costs. But Theo would not have any man die for her that she was not willing to take a bullet for herself. She pulled out her rifle and aimed it at the man standing before her, the other hand on her scabbard. She was grateful to have her sword on her tonight, a gun would do little in close combat.

  
"We will give you one chance to leave this ship with your life, pirate." She snarled, and the man laughed loudly, wheezing in her face.

  
Indeed she must have looked quite the sight, a woman in pants and boots, armed with a weapon, staring straight into his eyes while the men stood behind her like a flock of cowering ducklings.

  
"Lass, you are beautiful, so I might spare you once we take this shitty vessel. Just point me to the captain and I'll see to you later." His words were thick with innuendo, and she raised her gun higher, praying her arm would not tremble as she summoned all the courage she had within her.

  
"That would be me." 

  
Another laugh shook the man, the other pirates joining in, but he was cut short by the resonating boom of a gunshot, echoing across the waves surrounding them.  
Before anyone, Theodosia included, had time to register the fact that she had shot the pirate captain at point blank, the dark girl let out a vicious shriek. In one swift motion she unsheathed her sword and plunged it into the heart of the next nearest enemy.

  
" ** _Attack_**!"

  
Immediately, her men came to life, letting out a roar of equal fervor and lunging towards the pirates. The ragged men clearly outnumbered Theo's crew, however without their leader they were disorganized and panicky. Several hesitated to pull out their own swords, shock clearly encompassing them, and the moment of delay was their demise. The slaughter was quick and merciless, the air thick with sounds of severed flesh and battle cries, waves and blood slapping against the deck.

  
Cries of " _Retreat!_ " filled the air, drowned out by the victorious yells of Theo's men. The other boat sank back into the fog, and she finally allowed herself to drop her sword and rest her hands on her knees, panting wildly. 

  
She ached all over but assessed that she had no fatal wounds, although a cut on her arm stung like a terribly vicious bite. Her breathing slowed when she stood back to her full height, and her entire crew was staring at her. 

  
"Greene!" She bellowed, shattering the silence and beckoning a young man over.

  
Nathanael Greene's instinctual knowledge of the sea had lead her to quickly make him her first mate, an unenvied position. Theodosia knew he had been taunted horrendously for his promotion, accused of sleeping with her or being a kiss ass to the rich girl. He hated her for making his own people hate him, and they all hated him for allegedly taking her side in the war of crew vs captain. _No longer._

  
"Will you fetch me some bandages?" She pleaded as she clutched at her arm, now bleeding in earnest. 

  
The man instead pulled off his own thin sleeping shirt, as they had been surprised in the dead of night, and efficiently tied a makeshift tourniquet around her upper arm. It stopped the bleeding but did little to relieve the pain. _Whiskey for that._

  
"Maybe some words captain," he whispered to her, shivering in the night air. "The men have all fought valiantly and look to you." It was the first advice he had ever given her. She stood up taller, eyes scanning over the heads of the crew. _My crew_.

  
"Men," they all gazed at her expectantly, and she picked up her sword and thrust it upward with her good arm. "Tonight we have christened _Patriot_ with pirate blood!"   
They roared wildly and flung their own swords into the air, many being content to throw hats. She felt alive with bloodlust and victory, wondering briefly what her bookish father would think of her in this moment of glory.

  
"I want everyone to have a nice cup of ale and then back to sleep with ya, tomorrow we sail for Peru!"

  
"Peru!" They chorused, the celebratory spirit dancing around and inside them.

  
She went to sleep with a smile, for the first night not feeling the need to lock her door.

  
The sea has a curious way of bonding people, she would learn, as does hardship. She had since been journeying to distant lands with her loyal crew for five years now. Some had left, replaced by new men, but most had stayed. She knew that any one of them would knock the teeth out of those who questioned her ability to captain a ship. They trusted her judgement completely and would travel anywhere she pleased. She had proved herself time and time again, but Theo would forever credit the first moment she had earned their respect as the moment she had blasted a hole between that pirate's eyes.

They had traveled together from everywhere from Tibet to Spain, enduring hurricanes and wildlife and finding reward in glorious treasure and sweet exotic fruits.

“Captain Burr,” a crewmember had said to her once, sprawled out upon the golden sands of a Caribbean beach. “I truly believe this is the sweetest of all life has to offer. Sailing wherever we please, with my best mates beside me.”

At the time she had smiled compliantly, drunk on rich cider, but within her heart she agreed. She had seen birds of such vibrant colors that even the most high fashion women of her home in France would be envious. She had tasted water so clear and crisp her men were certain it must be the fountain of youth.

Her thoughts often drifted to her father. Whenever docked on land, she would write him pages and pages of letters, but never stayed put often enough to receive a response. She often felt a mild terror that he had died in her absence and her letters were piling up, unopened on the door of their old cottage.

But he was a young, adaptable man, she reminded herself. After all, it was he who had taught her everything she knew now of the ocean. But every since her mother had rotted before her innocent eyes, she had a stubborn fear of death. The only force within her that outshined it was perhaps her recklessness, so opposite her father. She had been born without his instinct for self preservation.

  
Second to that was her ache to see the world, but of late the turbulent sea waves in her veins had calmed, and the desire to let the lull of the ocean rock her to sleep had subsided in place of a new desire. Now she found herself seeking a place to anchor for more than just a few weeks. She wanted a life on land.  
Of all the places her father had taken her as a child, she recalled one more vividly than the rest. There was no place like London, and her crew had heartily agreed that it was as fine a place as any to plant their roots.

It had been London where she had first heard the sweet notes of a piano, drawn to it’s elegant beauty ever since. It was a talent she hid from her men, accustomed to careful tucking away of anything overtly feminine. They would lay down their lives for her, of that she was certain, but she knew a man’s pride was a delicate thing. She would not insult them by commanding them whilst prancing around in ball gowns and playing classical tunes upon an instrument entirely unpractical for a boat. Still, she dreamed of the way her dark fingers contrasted the ivory keys, shivering at the notion of such a pure sound being produced by her.

  
It had been in London as well where Nathanael had met his wife, a lovely woman who had resigned herself to traveling with them, unable to leave her dearest's side. The Lady Greene was hardly a sailor, but Theo found her company enchanting nonetheless. She had never quite been socialized amoungst other women, and Catherine was ever patient with her rougher qualities. The two would often stand side by side on the boat’s edge together, able to speak of idle nonsense as the endless ocean churned around them. It was lighthearted, and sometimes precisely what Theo needed to keep her spirits high.

But much as Cat loved her husband, Theo knew her friend was homesick. And the captain found herself feeling the same, but for more than just a place. She was sick with desire for a true home, something she had never before missed yet always lacked.

  
So, with her crew and her friends on her side, Theo turned _Patriot_ 's sails towards beautiful London.

  
None of them knew the dark horror they would bring with them.

  
The black plague had arrived to England by sea, rats hidden amount the boat floorboards. The Spanish conquistadors had arrived to the new Americas by sea, bringing genocide and new disease. Slave trade had been widely executed across the sea, a stain on mankind's history.

  
The demon barber of Fleet Street would arrive at England's shores not hidden in the wooden paneling nor in the blood of foreigners, but a safe and warm guest of Theodosia Alston Burr.

  
It was not uncommon for her to be on the deck in the late hours of the night, watching the waves roll by, keeping guard while her men slept sound. Five years had passed since that first and last pirate invasion, but a couple men had lost their lives, and she wouldn't let it happen ever again. A soft woolen blanket was wrapped around her shoulders and the beautiful woman rested her arms upon the ship's stern, gazing out upon the black waters.

  
At first, she thought it was a trick of the moonlight, the dark shape she was seeing floating on the surface. But the longer she stared and the more her eyes adjusted, it became transparent the shape was a man, clutching weakly to a large piece of wood. 

  
A little gasp escaped her and she stood erect, voice loud enough to wake all on board.

  
"Greene!! Harvey!! Come quick!!" The two came rushing by her side and she pointed out into the water. "There is a man out there! We must fetch him at once!"

  
She expected them to jump at her words as they usually did, but instead they exchanged uneasy glances.

  
"Miss Burr, if you'll permit me to say so, that does not seem wise. It is nearly midnight, after all..." Harvey, a newer crew member, murmured hesitantly.

  
_The Midnight Man_ , she realized. It was one of many silly superstitions amongst sailors, born from the ancient threat of ghost ships. The legend of the Midnight Man warned about a trick the paranormal sea thieves would allegedly pull; the illusion of a man overboard so another merciful ship might take him on. The tale was that, once invited on board, it was granted the power to posses the captain and murder the entire crew. It is spooky, indeed, but no myth is worth a man's life.

  
"Harvey, I will not let any man die because you are a coward." Her tone left no room for complaint. "Fetch him at once, and it's _Captain_ Burr."

  
He frantically rushed to remedy his error, vanishing down the lower deck and returning with more men and more rope, throwing it out to the man. When he didn't stir, they tied the rope around Greene and he jumped into the water, dragged back on board with the frail man in his arms.

  
Theodosia rushed to check the state of her newest passenger, looking close to death. He was an older man, with long tangled silver streaked hair, soaking and shivering. His skin was nearly blue, but he was still breathing. _Thanks be to God._

  
"I want new clothes for this man and Greene at once. Get him by a fire. And-"

  
She stopped speaking abruptly as the man sat up, gasping and looking around with frantic eyes, causing a few men to jump back. Theodosia dared to place a hand on his shoulder, and the wild eyes fixed onto her.

  
"My name is Theodosia Burr, captain of this ship, and we have just pulled you from the water. You are alive and we can quickly find you something warm and something to eat. Can you speak?"

  
The man blinked, his breathing slowing, and cleared his throat. His first attempt at speaking was nothing but a rasp. But he eventually managed to whisper out a single sentence.

  
"Where....where are we sailing for?" His voice was weak.

  
"London." She replied, wrapping her own fleece tight around him. Cat would be waking up soon with all the racket, and she was much better versed than Theo in tending to the ill.

  
"London." He repeated, swaying and letting his eyes flutter shut. "London."

  
And just before fainting, the man smiled.


	2. Worst Pies in London

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Just picture Anthony Ramos in an apron with me

John kneaded the dough between his fingers, or rather, he attempted to. The man couldn't understand what it was that made the substance so thick and rough when it should be gooey and soft.  _ Maybe more yeast _ , the baker hummed to himself as he sprinkled on a generous handful of the power.  _ Ah hell, might as well add some more flour too. That's plenty soft. _

 

He lifted the dough to maybe try giving it a little flip in the air when a fat black bug scuttled across the cutting board. John sucked in a breath and instinctively jumped backwards, dropping the sticky, now powdery dough squarely onto his shoes.

 

“Awe fuck,” he mumbled, kicking it off his new(est) pair of boots.  _ It’d probably taste better with the shoe flavor.  _ He contemplated still serving it, for a moment. His customers would never know, and he wouldn’t have to start over.

 

He looked up and realized in his agitation he had lost sight of the bug. The curly haired man's eyes narrowed, and he lowered himself so he was eye to eye with the carving board.  _ There.  _ The thick beetle was resting under his jar of parsley.  _ Or is it cumin? _ He shook his head to clear it, it didn't matter now. What mattered was that he had cornered what was probably the mother of all the smaller insects that had been tormenting his kitchen for weeks.

 

He slowly reached for his rolling pin, raising it dramatically high above his head, and slowly lifted the seasoning jar. It's antennae twitched, nearly making him gag, but other than that it did not move. John smirked, setting the jar down and raising the pin with both hands in a caricature of some wicked butcher.

 

The little bell on the door sounded suddenly, a noise John was quite unaccustomed to hearing, and he glanced up in surprise. It was a split second of lost eye contact, but he immediately realized his mistake when he slammed the pin down and the beetle was gone.

 

“God _ fucking _ damn it!” He cursed loudly, kicking the counter and sending a sharp pain up his leg. He hoped on one foot, cursing and flipping over ingredients in a desperate search.

 

It was only when he was holding the bag of flour in one hand and gripping the rolling pin with white knuckles in the other did he realize that there was actually a customer inside his shop. He turned to the man standing there and grinned sheepishly, dropping his utensils at once.

 

“Sorry man. This beetle is like, my worst enemy and he got away again.”

 

“I know the feeling.” The man’s tone was solemn, but John felt like there was a joke in his words that he had missed. He grinned regardless and the man didn’t return it.

 

The man was small and frail, looking half starved ( _ Perfect he won't be able to say no to my pies)  _ and half dead. His eyes were cold and dark, and his long silver-black hair fell in tangled curls below his shoulders. Had John seen him in the street he would've assumed the man was homeless, but something about seeing those eyes up close compelled him. He motioned for the man to sit down.

 

“Hey, you look hungry.”  _ You look familiar.  _ John disregarded the thought instantly, the man smelt of the sea, clearly having travelled a long way, and John knew everybody who was anybody in this part of town. “How about a nice warm meat pie?” John pulled one of the thick, oily pies from the oven and threw it on a plate, feeling almost cruel. “I must warn you, they are fucking awful.”

 

The man raised an eyebrow and brought his fork to his lips, the taste almost instantly inducing a choking noise. The disgust on his face was the most emotion the baker had yet seen from him, and he chucked as he handed him a tall glass of ale, which the man promptly chugged.

 

“Worst pies in all of London, guaranteed.” He said cheekily.

 

“Indeed Mr. Laurens, but this ale is fine and dark. I'll have another glass.”

 

John Laurens shouldn't have felt his skin prickle at the man's words, after all his name  _ was _ posted outside the shop, but something in the tone of it felt surreal. Like he had lived this conversation before. Like he had met this man before.

 

_ Benjamin Barker _ . He bit his tongue hard enough to draw blood to keep from gasping. He hadn't thought of that name in years. That beautiful, beautiful man he had used to go drinking with.

It must have been eighteen something years ago when they had met inside that old pub, and the young men had made fast friends, speaking vividly about how they would change the world.  _ A baker and a barber.  _ John felt a fond pang as he remembered the electricity which had coursed between them. A hand lingering on the arm for a moment too long, fiery eyes holding his own gaze, full of empty promise. John had always known his own heart, yet he could not risk that his dear friend did not feel the same. Sodomites were punished by death, and in protestant England it was plenty enforced. He had made the right decision to remain silent in any case, for the man had all too soon taken a wife, abandoning their duel dream of traveling to distant lands together. At least he had got to be the best man.

 

“Of course sir,” John poured him another generous cup, then rested his chin in his hands with a deep sigh. He had let the fact that it was covered in flour slip his mind, and now his face was marked by a white handprint. “Maybe the ale would sell better were it not accompanied by pies that either taste like dust or shit. But times are hard, meat is expensive, and I can't even catch a scrawny rat to bake.” He watched with narrowed eyes as a bug crawled across his shoe and under the counter. “Maybe I should try cooking the damn beetles.”

 

“If times are so hard, why not rent out the room upstairs?” The man’s tone was guarded, not looking up from the pie he was pushing around with his fork, and John felt a smirk tug at his lips.  _ You never could hide your emotions, friend. _

 

“Oh nobody would dare to live there sir,” he said with mock hush. “Folks around here think it's haunted.”

 

“Why would they think that?” His eyes flashed and John wiped his hand across his forehead, leaving another chalky white streak, before standing tall.

 

“Well, let me tell you a tale to make your toes curl.”

 

* * *

 

Theodosia stood on  _ Patriot  _ long after most of her crew had gone ashore, watching the men of the harbor tied down her boat with thick ropes of finality. She had, of course, been ashore countless times over her travels. But this felt resolute, as she was now here to stay. Theo had mastered the way of the sea, and knew every plank of wood in her boat, but she knew nothing of finding a home. It felt like being a child again, only without her father to hold her hand and explain the world to her. But at worst she felt apprehensive, not fearful. She had learned how to make seasoned men of the sea follow her every order, she had learned how to wield a sword in a manner that made none question her. She could learn how to make a life for herself in this place. _ I must write to my father at once, and this time I can include a return address. _ The thought made her eyes prick with tears. She had not looked upon her father's dark and elegant handwriting in what felt like an eternity. The moment she was settled she resolved to send him sufficient gold to have him come visit at once.

 

The man they had rescued from the water stood by her side, gazing intently not at the men, but rather the city that lay before them.

 

“It is beautiful isn't it, Mr. Hamilton?”

 

He had spoken little in the weeks he had been a guest on board, yet Theodosia found herself growing fond of him all the same. He reminded her of her father in his stoicism, she could see wisdom and wheels turning violently behind his eyes. She felt nearly certain, however, the two men would not get along. They were much too close in mannerism to feel comfortable

around one another. Hamilton was silent but clearly possessed a great intelligence, and she felt at ease in his presence.

 

Her crew did not share the sentiment.

 

“Truly Captain,” one of her men had said to her at night outside her door with a voice that shook. “He frightens the men. If you walk by his cabin at night, the  _ dead _ of night ma'am, you can hear laughter. Evil laughter miss, I swear it. We’re all good Christian men, and the devil lives in that one, I tell you.”

 

He was certainly a haunted man. Theo had seen him out on the deck many times during her nightly walks, his eyes the picture of torment and misery. But he frightened her not, she had simply stood beside him and watched the water with him.

 

“Perhaps if you had been adrift at sea for days,” She had told the crewman sharply. “Your mind would have loosened a bit as well.”

 

She looked up at him, and a humorless grin had crept onto his face.

 

“I have seen much more beautiful places, miss. London is my home but….these familiar streets leave me with a feeling of dread. I have witnessed great evil here.” He often spoke in riddle like phrases, constantly intriguing the young captain.

 

“If I may ask sir, what do you mean?”

 

He was silent for so long Theo thought he was refusing to answer, but when he began speaking his voice and eyes were unwavering, and something mournful shaped his tone.

 

“There was a barber and his wife, a long time ago, and they were happy. They had a child together, a beautiful little boy. And she was the most beautiful woman to walk the earth. She was more than that though, she was kind, noble, virtuous, and everything the man lacked, she supplied. But he had one flaw she couldn't account for. Naivety.” He spat bitterly, and Theo mused that he must have known the man personally. Else it was a famous London tale she was not privy too. “For another man, far above the barber in status and wealth, had seen her beauty. A Judge. He lusted for her, and so had the barber sent away to rot in jail. The woman was pious and good but she was young, and she could not survive on her own. With her husband gone, all the judge would have to do was wait.”

 

“And the lady, sir, did she succumb?” Theo spoke softly, and Mr. Hamilton finally turned to face her, his smile now holding faint traces of kindness.

 

“Ah that was many years ago, my dear. I suspect nobody knows. But I want to thank you. Miss Burr.” He shook her hand, and she attempted not to flinch at the shocking coldness of his flesh. “If you had not dragged me out of the sea, I would be as dead as that barber surely is. You are an intelligent and worthy woman.”

 

“Of course sir, thank you.” She detested compliments on her physical attributes alone, she valued her ability over her beauty, and she was grateful he had left such feeble praises out of his speech.

He grabbed his belongings, smile now replaced by his more common mask of neutrality, and began to march down the harbor. She watched him pause, as if breathing in the air, and spit harshly into the water.

 

“Mr Hamilton!” She cried suddenly, running down her boat after the man with the bitter disposition. “Will I see you again?”

 

“I suspect you might find me down Fleet Street, if you truly wish.” He eyed her curiously, then nodded his farewell and vanished into the fog.

 

“Until we meet again, friend.” Theo murmured after him, feeling strangely ominous, and heard footsteps approaching from behind.

 

“I know you grew to care for him,” Nathaneal carried both of their bags, no longer her first mate yet still insisting upon aiding her. “But I am glad to see the last of that man.”

 

“He did no harm,” she protested mildly, following her friend down the shore.

 

“Yes, but Midnight Man or not, he did creep me out.” The man teased and she laughed, nudging him with her shoulder.

 

“You are terrible, Greene. But I do want to thank you again for allowing me to stay with you and your family. I truly-” He held up a hand to silence her, smiling fondly.

 

“Oh Captain, it is no trouble at all. With all the treasures your voyages have gained us, it is not as though my home will be burdened by your presence. And Cat adores you. So long as you do not bring home any stray demon men, you can stay as long as you like.”

 

“Truly Nathanel, I know not how your wife endures your sense of humor.” They exchanged smiles, the promise of a new home and life and their youth giving them an unparalleled energy.

 

And Theo only looked back once.

 

* * *

 

 

“There was a barber and his wife, a long time ago, and they were happy.” John began with a flourish, absentmindedly popping a piece of one of the pies into his mouth and immediately spitting it out. “He wasn't wealthy, but he was the best barber in the city I tell ya. Anyway, you got your typical antagonist, man called Judge Jefferson, who wanted the beautiful man’s pretty little wife all to himself. So he and his creepy henchman, Beadle...God, I can't remember his name.” John glanced at the man but he offered up no response, eyes glued to the table with a frozen intensity. The baker sighed and, rolling his eyes and chugging some ale, continued his speech. “Anyhow, the Beadle and the Judge sent the barber to some foreign prison and left the little wife all alone.”

 

“And?!” The man snapped after John had paused for a moment of dramatic effect. The baker flinched.

 

“And the woman was obviously beside herself with grief. It took only a few weeks before the vultures of the bank swept in and took the house, and I’m sure Jefferson helped them speed along the process. She had nowhere to turn. And in stepped the Beadle,  _ Madison _ that's his name! Madison waltzes in, very contrite, and invites her and her son to stay with he and the Judge. Tells her the Judge has seen the error of his ways, and is throwing a party that night. Poor thing. So she shows up that night, her son clutching her hand, and there's nobody there that she knows, poor dear. He corners her in the middle of the room and takes her in front of her son and everyone. They thought she must be a mad woman for resisting so much, all of them laughing and pointing and-”

 

The man let out a feral cry, standing up with such sudden force that the table and ale tumbled to the floor, a couple bugs scurrying away in fear.

 

“Would nobody have mercy on her?!” He let out a choked sob but his face was contorted in anger, not sadness. John ran his eyes over the man slowly, surely.

 

“So it is you.” His soft voice was a contrast to the man's shouts. “My dear Benj-”

 

“I go by a different name now.” His old friend cut him off, his breaths deep, and closed the distance between them, resting his palms on the counter adjacent to John. “Call me Alexander. Alexander Hamilton.”

 

“John Laurens.” His grin was coy and he extended a hand that Alexander did not take. 

 

“What happened to her? What happened to my Eliza?” Until this point his eyes and voice had been completely void of the man John had once known. But the tenderness with which he spoke her name thrilled John, it sounded like his own sweet Ben.

 

“She killed herself.” John attempted to keep his tone neutral, skin prickling with the nearness of the other man. “Drank an entire bottle of poison, so they say.”

 

He expected another violent reaction, but the man only nodded resolutely, as though this were the answer he had anticipated all along.

 

“And….and my son?”

 

“The Judge’s ward. He was raised wealthy,” John added quickly. “He has not suffered.”

 

“Under that man's thumb, he has suffered, mark my words. More ale.” Alex motioned vaguely with his hand and John held out his own glass, watching with fascination and the way the man wrapped both his hands tightly around it and drained its contents completely.

 

“I am...surprised you remembered me after all these years, truly.” John confessed, and Alex blinked, seeming to see him for the first time.

 

His hand reached up and brushed the flour off of John's forehead, fingertips barely grazing his skin. The baker held his breath, scanning the man's face for familiarity.  _ It matters not if he is the same man, _ he thought with resolution.  _ He is back and I will not allow the chance to slip through my fingers again. _

 

“I have suffered much, John Laurens, but I counted upon your friendship as I made my return. I had prayed to find you here almost as much as…”  _ As much as he prayed to see Eliza. _

John swallowed his jealousy, settling for his position of second. She was dead, he could not love a dead woman forever.

 

“I kept your blades upstairs.” He whispered. “They are still polished and ready, should you like to move in.”

 

“I would like nothing more, take me to them. And consider me moved in, friend. I own nothing but the clothes on my back.”

 

“What's mine in yours, Alex.”

 

The duo made their way upstairs, a room sparse save for a bright window, an old chair, and a large chest. John knelt down before it and removed a small black pouch, passing it to Alex with as much care as one might a holy relic. Alex slowly unfolded the leather folds and held up a silver blade to the window. The light glistened off his shaving knife, and Alex gazed at the tool with the same reverence and awe that John was watching him with. 

 

“You can start your business up again right here. You can start over.” It was as if no time had passed for John, from the way his heart was pounding he felt nineteen again. Nineteen and worshipping the words of a man with huge doe eyes, burning with passion.

 

“Start over?” Those same eyes flickered to John, and with the blade still raised above him he looked like a madman. Alex gave a cynical little laugh. “I cannot begin again while my work waits, John. As long as my Eliza rests beneath the earth and blood still courses through Jefferson’s veins.”

 

“And after you take your revenge, you'll be at peace?”  _ You'll be free to love again? _

 

“Only when he is dead can I find the slightest satisfaction.” Alex swung the blade experimentally, hissing through the air between them. “And his little minion as well. I’ll get back to shaving immediately, and pay you back from your generosity in renting my old room to me”

 

“Don’t think twice of it.” John dismissed him, rising to leave the man alone with his old room. “You are my guest for now, I’m only sorry that all you’ll have to eat is my meat pies.” John joked in the doorway, but Alex didn’t seem to hear him at all. He was cradling the blades like children, polishing them on his sleeve.

  
“My old friend.” The man whispered to the largest knife, echoing John’s own thoughts as the baker slowly closed the door behind him.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you for reading and your kudos/kind words


	3. Outside the Sky Waits

Cat had advised Theo against taking a midnight stroll along the streets of London, much as the young captain desired to feel the night air on her skin.

  
“Theo, surely you aren’t honestly thinking of going out right now.” Her friend caught her one evening coming down the stair, fully dressed while the other was in nothing but her nightgown. “It isn’t safe at this hour.” 

 

“Catherine you worry too much, there is nobody lurking about waiting to murder me.” Her laugh had been dismissive, but the normally passive woman grabbed her arm, clutching tight.

 

“Theodosia,” Her voice was sterner than it had ever been aboard  _ Patriot _ . “This is not your boat, the people around you are not seeking your well being, nor do you hold any power here. Do not underestimate man’s cruelty.”

 

Something about her words had struck Theo with the memory of Mr. Hamilton’s story, and with the darkness of his gaze at the forefront of her mind, Theo reluctantly acquiesced. She now wandered about the town at the hours of dusk instead. It was still populated enough to be safe, yet there was that beautiful stillness to the air she so loved, and the stars were still just beginning to shine through the clouds. There was not that same peace in isolation brought on by black water and sky, but she did not intend to learn firsthand the cruelty of man that had made her friend Hamilton so grim.

  
Her mind occasionally wandered to him, but she felt no pull yet to visit Fleet Street. They would have little to discuss if she were to visit so soon, she planned on acquiring tales of her own to share with the morbid man.  _ God, is it odd that I want someone so unusual to consider me a friend? _ Theo decided that it was not. She knew very few people here, her old crew having scattered across England, and she must be simply gripping on to what familiarity she could find.

  
It was during these little evening walks that she had discovered the quaintness of stability. If she turned down Arbor Lane she would find a little old man selling freshly picked fruits every single day. They were not as sweet and bright as those of India, but the juice dribbled down her chin nonetheless. And while the constant threat of a turbulent storm never surfaced to make her heart pound with terror and thrill, she had never before experienced the tranquility of seeing enchanting little children chasing around scrappy dogs.

  
She often attracted stares as she went about, the town unaccustomed to seeing a lady without a dress or even a skirt, and with her hair frizzing about around her instead of tucked back in a neat little bun. But Theo aimed for comfort, not to attract suitors with her every step.

  
_ But would that be so awful? _ she had let such harmless thoughts flutter in a few days ago and they had nested among the folds of her mind. She did not lack for companionship, and she felt nothing missing except perhaps the salty smell of the sea. All the same, would a lover add more pleasure to her life? It was one of the few adventures she had yet to conquer.

  
It was not because she suffered from a lack of admirers either. For the first couple years after the initial pirate encounter, before London and Catherine, Nathanael had pursued her. Theo had stiffly turned him down at every turn, finding it improper for her to be courted by her inferior. It would have led to tension in their place of work, and regardless, she felt nothing but friendship when looking at the man.  _ Good thing too, lord knows what a fool he would be without Catherine. _

  
"Fresh scone miss?" A comely lad called out to her, pushing around a delicious smelling cart. Theo gladly handed him a shilling or two extra in exchange for the warm and flaky bread, the aroma making her mouth water .

  
It would be a cold night, she could already feel it in her sailor's bones, but she was enjoying her thoughts on this walk far to much to be heading home. Clutching her little shawl that Cat had loving knitted her, she took a turn down an unfamiliar street. Bit by bit, she was mapping the area around the Greene residence in her mind. The sun was beginning to sink, but the road was well lit and clean. She walked on, confident in her sense of direction and ability to navigate her way back.   
She was just beginning to polish off the last of her scone,sucking the sticky jam from her fingers, when a sweet but faint melody caught her attention. She had to stop and still her breathing, so faint was it, but she was able to quickly discern that it was trailing from the street parallel to where she was standing. 

 

Theo squeezed through a couple narrow alleyways and was rewarded as the music grew louder, a familiar sound. She was near enough now to recognize the notes of a piano, and her heart soared with a nostalgic ache.  _ My old friend. _ The song held clear classical elements but was a piece she had not heard before, an intriguing mournfulness coloring the notes.   
She reached the end of the unfamiliar street and had to tilt her head back to take in an imposing mansion, thick white pillars giving it a guarded look.  _ This is the wealthy side of town _ , she realized with slight distain. Was her musician some posh little brat? _ You were a posh little brat once _ , she scolded herself, and crossed the street to stand underneath a wide window. She had often felt a discomfort at her upbringing, never finding her place among society's elite, and she felt that discomfort returning here among the grandiose buildings. It just seemed unnecessary to Theo, flaunting one's monetary advantages with polished stairwells and pretentious parties. Nathanael was well off, as was she, yet the house they resided in was enough to suit their needs and nothing more. 

  
The music was now as clear as if it had been she who was playing it, and even more beautiful at such a close range. She took several steps backwards to make out the figure in the window, and when her eyes adjusted to the fading light she nearly gasped.

  
Playing the beloved instrument so beautifully was a boy, with curly hair that tumbled becomingly around his shoulders, his face young and charming. But it was not his attractiveness that took her breath so, but the deep sadness within his eyes, obvious even at a distance. It was no wonder the tones of the song were overlapped with tragedy, she had never seen an individual look so lonely in her lifetime.

  
She was unaware of how long she was staring but after a moment his eyes absently drifted to the window, and his hands stilled the moment he caught sight of her, the music ending abruptly. Theo felt embarrassment heat her cheeks as the two stared one another down awkwardly.

  
"I'm sorry to seem rude," she called up to him, stepping a bit closer. "But your playing was so beautiful I could not resist stopping to listen. May I ask what piece you were playing?"

  
The boy nervously tucked a curl behind his ear, hesitating a long moment before his response.   
"I-it was something I wrote."  _ Something he wrote _ . Theo swallowed this information heavily, this boy looked no older than she yet his talent was immense. And to know something so melancholy was written by one so beautiful wounded her.

  
"Well, it was beautiful.”  _ Beautiful and haunting, like you.  _ She shook the traitorous thought away quickly.

  
"Thank you." He replied and silence ensued. Theo wondered if she should leave, if she was being impolite, when he spoke again. "I can play another piece, if you like?"

  
"Oh yes." She said quickly, and with a smile tugging on his lips, the boy lowered his fingers to the keys once more.

  
This one felt more tranquil than sad, and Theo shut her eyes to enjoy the slow melody. It seemed the song ended all to soon, and she blinked open her eyes to find the boy's gaze fixated upon her once again. This time the sadness in his gaze replaced by mischief.

  
"I have never seen a woman in pants before." His tone was casual rather than accusatory, and his bluntness made her smile.

  
"They are quite comfortable."

  
"Really?" His eyes sparkled. "I have always imagined dresses to be the better option. Your legs can just be free under all those skirts, and if you decided against underwear no one would be the wiser."

  
"Unless you should encounter a strong wind." She corrected him, once again taken aback by his candid speak. "Not to mention those skirts are so heavy, it would make me feel slow and lethargic."

  
The boy turned so that his arms were resting on the windowsill, fully facing her.

  
"And where are you in such a hurry to, miss, that you can't bear the extra weight of a skirt?" He asked and Theo almost replied in earnest before she realized he was teasing her. An unplanned smile crept up her face.

  
"You have caught me. I am running about the town taking stock of all the loneliest looking piano players I can find." He laughed loudly, a sound sweeter than the music.

  
"Well look no further miss, you have found the ultimate caged bird who sings."

  
"What cages you?" Theo knew it was the wrong thing to ask when the dark storm clouds returned to his eyes, but he shook his head and continued to grin at her.

  
"Surely you have guessed by now miss. It's my good looks. Truly, a prison. I cannot even leave my house, for fear of women throwing themselves at me."

  
"Oh you poor thing," she couldn't help the many laughs escaping her. It amused her how he seemed so childlike in his manner, yet was obviously no younger than twenty.

  
"I play my little songs to cope. And on the chance that a woman in pants seeking lonely musicians should find me."

  
"Well you have been found."

  
"Indeed I have." His words were warm and they seemed to fill her, head to toe.

  
_ What's your name? _ The question was on her tongue when she heard the distant sound of a door slamming, the boy flinched as though he had been struck.

  
"Phillip!" A booming voice called, and he gave her a resigned look.

  
"Come see me again." He almost whispered as the loud voice repeated its cry, and he vanished back into the dark room, piano abandoned.

  
Theo stood there a moment longer, struggling to make sense of the odd encounter, but decided it was too sweet to try and imagine words for. Sweeter than the honeycomb of Peru.

  
Night had fallen completely by the time she made her way home, the stars in the sky struggling to outshine the ones in her eyes.

 

* * *

 

  
  
It seemed that in every corner and crevice of London, shadows lurked. Alex felt haunted by his memories, often so sharp and unexpected that they were jarring. He could be walking down the street and see an old bench where had sat with Eliza, hands intertwined. A green patch of park where he had carried his son on his shoulders.  _ Phillip. _

  
Lately, Hamilton had taken to remaining indoors.

  
In the dark of his old room, the thoughts that tormented him were more like ghosts than recollections. He would be certain he heard Eliza calling his name, or Phillip's little footsteps along the stair. But more often than not it was only Laurens checking in on him.

  
And wasn't that a blessing. It was transparent that the man was in love with Alex, he had always been. They had met in a tavern that was now refurbished into a shoe store, existing only through the way it lingered in his mind.

  
"Pardon me," he had pulled up a stool next to the young man whose hair was tied back, his hand around a bottle of beer. "But is this seat taken? I find drinking alone to have a rather tragic feel to it." The man had nodded with a lighthearted laugh, clearly already under alcohol's heavy influence.

  
"Have a seat my friend, ease your loneliness with another round. John Laurens."

  
"Benjamin Barker." They shook hands and the flash of lightning was instantaneous and mutual. Alex had survived a hurricane prior to moving to England, and even the torrid winds of that had not stirred in him as severe a feeling.

  
If that encounter was a hurricane, then the first time he set eyes on Eliza was the sun exploding. But Alex couldn't dwell on that.

  
What pained him more than anything else was that he had lost the memory of her voice completely. He could still recall her sweet words, and that he had enjoyed to hear her sing, but no matter how hard he struggled the sound of it was lost to him forever. How long would it be before her face became a complete haze? And he was certain were he to come face to face with his own son, he would not even recognize him.

  
He could not recall what it felt like to love her anymore either, but that disturbed him less. He felt a dull ache still when he thought of her, the wound far from scabbing over, but it was covered by a thick coat of rage, enveloping all his senses. His imprisonment had been cruel and inhumane, the sadistic guards taking joy in their punishment. He had felt the whip on his back and used to comfort himself in thoughts of his family. However it did not suffice for long, as it filled him with a sorrow wider than the sea, so he instead let his mind leave his body, feeling no pain.

  
His dissociative technique had grown a mind of its own, and he often felt a glass wall between himself and reality. He did not mind. In relation to the misery, his numbness felt like joy. 

 

He had not been lying when he told Theodosia that Benjamin Barker was dead, for it was true in many senses. The man he had been had known hardship of course, but never true agony that wrapped around your very bones and gave a squeeze. But Benjamin had not left after death. Alex simply carried around a corpse inside him, the stretch of it's rot inescapable and motivating.   
John had loved Benjamin, it was obvious. And perhaps Benjamin had loved John. But would John love this man, did he even understand this man? How could he possibly, when Alex didn't understand himself? He wasn't even a complete person anymore. He was a vessel for anger and revenge, and a casket for that naive barber from so long ago.

  
He would join his old self soon enough, and it would be sweet relief. But for now his work waited.

 

* * *

 

  
  
John found Alex pacing his room upstairs, mumbling to himself incoherently, still clutching the handle one of his old blades. Alex had not yet resumed his shaving business, yet he still kept his tools close, as if they belonged at the end of his arm. The baker wondered if Alex had slept at all. He approached him with cation, as one might a wild animal, and rested his open palms on both the man's shoulders. Alex jumped in surprise, despite John having been in his line of sight the entire time, and blinked slowly.

 

"Alexander, have you gotten any sleep?" 

  
"Wh-what?"

  
" _ Sleep. _ " he repeated with mock slowness, grinning charmingly. "If the bed we found you is uncomfortable you are always welcome to mine."  _ And more, if you'd like. _

  
"I can't sleep, not until I've figured out when to kill Jefferson. I think I'll just march right up to his front door and shoot him. I can watch the light in his eyes die that way." The smile dropped from John's face as if it had been slapped away.

  
"Alex you...you can't do something so rash."

  
"What will they do John? Throw me in prison?" His smile was frantic and he laughed, a disturbingly humorless sound. 

  
"Alex," John gave him a slight shake. "You will be executed within the week, it’s not true vengeance. You'll never get your hands on the Beadle, and you'll never get to see your son that way."  _ And I've only just got you back. _ "Be patient love. Half the fun of revenge is in the anticipation. The planning."

  
"Well how would  _ you _ do it?" Alex grumbled like a child denied his sweets, dropping into his old barbers chair. John moved to stand behind him, hands on his shoulders.

  
"Well, if it were me," His voice was soft and slow, letting his fingers tap against the cotton of the man's shirt. "And I were a barber like you, I would lure him to me." He leaned in behind Alex, hands sinking to wrap around his torso, chin on the barber's shoulder. "I would have him come to my shop, have him sit in my chair, neck exposed." John let his breath tickle Alex's throat as he spoke, and the smaller man's eyes fluttered shut. Though whether his interest were from John's presence or his words, the baker wasn't sure. "Maybe I'd get the beadle to come in first, both on the same day. Regardless, I would give him a nice clean shave. Make polite small talk. Then tell him my name, have him look into my eyes," John lifted his hand to trace his finger across Alex's throat in the outline of a smile. " _ And slit his throat. _ "

  
"God yes!" Alex jumped to his feet so rapidly that John tumbled to the ground with a squeal. "John you brilliant bastard! It'll feel so rewarding to have his blood coat these floors, the floors I would walk with Eliza."

  
"Yes yes Eliza." John mumbled, bitter at his advice being successful in the wrong way. 

  
"We must spread word of my name at once. I have a reputation to establish. Well, re-establish." Alex pulled John to his feet and kissed the man square on the mouth for an instant before grabbing his leather satchel and rushing down the stairs. "Come John, you must tell me who the town barber is. We'll go to his area of business to pander customers. I'll cut his prices in half, the money doesn't matter to me, and I can do any shave he can twice as closely and twice as quickly."

  
He spoke all in a single breath, probably still talking out of earshot, but John hadn't budged. It was such a brief, offhand kiss, more of a peck really, but he had dreamed of such contact since the moment he laid eyes on the man.  _ At least I persuaded him to take his time _ , John thought, bringing his fingers to his lips in a daze, before finally shaking his head and following the man. Even in his optimistic youth, Alex was a man who's actions it was best not to question. _ I'll give him reason to forget Eliza. Just you wait. _

 

* * *

_  
_ "I don't know how many times I have to tell that boy not to go through my library. God, he was so complacent as a child. Are all teenagers so belligerent?"

  
"Children sir, can grow to be rather irrational. He has the hot headed temperament of his father."    
Madison reached for a slice of cheese from the plate between them, but Jefferson slammed his fork down into it, stabbing the cheddar like one might a criminal.

  
"Jesus Christ James, why do you insist upon mentioning that man to me while I'm eating?" The Judge rolled his eyes and stuck the entire chunk of cheese into his mouth, chewing with his mouth open in great smacking sounds.

  
"Sir, I meant no disrespect to you. I only intended to point out that it is essential to remember the boy's origins. He will not remain sweet and pretty and complacent forever." James tried not to stumble over the words ‘sweet’ and ‘pretty’, heavy on his tongue.

  
"You are right," Jefferson sighed deeply. "I let that fact escape me, for he so bears the good looks of his mother. But in mannerism he is much more like the little scrawny fellow she fucked before meeting me." He laughed loudly and Madison joined in instinctively, choosing to avert his eyes when cheese crumbled showered across the man's shirt.

  
Jefferson ran his hands through his curls absentmindedly, clearly deep in thought, and Madison watched him closely. It could be troublesome when Thomas got to thinking. The Judge was clever and evil in his schemes, it was true, however in basic social interactions the man was rather dull. James had made it his duty to protect his domineer from ever making himself look foolish, even in private. A task that had proved to be rather daunting when it came to the subject of Phillip.

  
"Mr Jefferson, sir?" The object of whom they were speaking stood hesitantly in the doorway of the lounging room, hands behind his back. James was irked by the boy’s light footedness. It was only a matter of time before he heard more than what was intended for his ears. Jefferson sat up straighter immediately.

  
"Yes sweet one? What is it?" His voice was thick with something James couldn't place. Or perhaps simply didn't want to. Phillip tucked a curl behind his ear.

  
"I...I was wondering if I might be allowed to go out for a little stroll? The night air from my window just feels so nice and the streets are empty and I would be back within the hour and-" His words seemed to be spilling out one after another in a rush to get to the end of his sentence, however Jefferson stopped him with a single raised hand.  _ The boy is well trained _ , James noted, as his silence was immediate.

  
"Phillip," His tones was gentle but almost mockingly so. It was condescending sweetness that colored Jefferson's tone. James received only the condescending part. "You know how I feel about you going outside these walls. I can't protect you out there. And I have many enemies who would love to hurt me through hurting you. Now be a good boy and play your piano or something." Phillip nodded, clearly dismissed.

  
"Yes sir." James could've sworn he heard the boy mumbled something about Rapunzel but it was too faint to be sure. The beadle stood up.

  
"I'm going to retire for bed your honor." Jefferson didn't glance up, his gaze fixated on the doorway through which the boy had disappeared. James swallowed down a bit of what he knew to be irrational irritation and cleared his throat. "Shall I wait up for you, or will you be with Phillip?" James was proud of himself for keeping his tone perfectly neutral, and Jefferson finally glanced down at him after slowly rising to his feet.

  
"You may wait for me," He drawled slowly. "However I shall be quite tired, and I shall be quite late." And Jefferson's footsteps echoed loudly up the stairs that lead to the side of the house opposite of their bedroom.

  
James grabbed another piece of cheese, hardly tasting it, and gazed after the man with unmasked jealousy. He thought of the mopey way Phillip dragged himself around the house and felt a rage unparalleled by even his admiration for the Judge.  _ Insolent child. He has no idea how lucky he is. _

  
He shoved Thomas' unoccupied pillow over his ears to drown out the distant moaning and creaking of the wood. But mostly to drown out the young brat's ungrateful sobs.


	4. Le Miracle Elixir

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you all so much for your super kind comments and support! I'm glad you guys like it, and I'm sorry in advance for any spelling errors I dont trust anyone enough to read it through for me.

"John are you sure this man is the most popular barber?"

 

"Yes love I'm sure. He's here every Sunday, like clockwork, with his little French assistant."

  
The two men were lurking around the edges of a crowd which had grown to be rather substantial, a hastily constructed looking stage in the front, a small red tent behind it. Alex had wanted to track down his every competitor immediately but John had stopped him, placing a hand on his chest to keep him from bolting out the door.

  
"Alexander, there is really only one man who people go to for their shaving needs. A con man. And he only takes customers on Sundays. You'll just have to wait."

  
"Wait." Alex echoed the word with a snarl, collapsing into his chair. "I have been  _ waiting _ for sixteen miserable years." _ As have I. _ "How long Laurens? How long must I wait?" 

  
Perhaps it was John's own fantasizing, but the man had seemed almost vulnerable. John had knelt down beside him, reaching to smooth out his hair. The barber didn't flinch away, like he had half anticipated.

  
"Soon love, you'll get your revenge I swear it. Tomorrow at first light I'll take you to his little tent."

  
And John had kept his word. Now they stood within the masses of London, standing close together to John's delight, when he heard the barber inhale sharply.

  
He immediately found the source of his fear, as Beadle Madison was standing but a few feet away from them, moving about the crowd.

  
"He's so close." Alex whispered with an almost feral hunger as John squeezed his arm, silently begging the man to wait.

  
To John's enormous relief, a great cacophony of trumpet sounds began as two men dressed in electric blue suits appeared on the stage. They played their instruments loudly and obnoxiously, their introductory music ending when a tall boy appeared on stage.

  
He was young and charming, his long hair pulled back into a tie like John's own, and dressed in a tight fitting pair of breeches that suited him well. He grinned wickedly at the crowd as he stepped forth and they burst into applause, eliciting a little bow from the teen.

  
" _ Bonjour mes amies _ , hello my friends!" His accent was thick but only added to his charisma. He tossed a little wink towards the audience and spread his arms wide. "Welcome to the tent of the glorious Charles Lee!" They applauded again and the trumpets gave a small chorus of approval. 

 

The boy began to strut across the front of the stage, locking eyes with various members of the crowd. "For those of you who do not know who I am, my name is Marie-Joseph Paul Yves Roch Gilbert du Motier de La Fayette. But please, call me Lafayette." He pulled a small blue vial out of his coat, giving it a little twirl. "Many of you are here to see  _ le wonderous  _ Lee and receive a shave to change your appearance completely. Some of you are here to see me." Another wink. "But all of you should truly be here to see this! The Miracle Elixir!"

  
"What kind of honorable man employees teenagers to do their conning for them?" Alex said to John, just loudly enough to attract a few odd stares.

  
"I heard he is not his employer at all, but his  _ lover _ ." John mock whispered back, and a few people ahead of them turned back.

  
"Pardon sir, I couldn't help overhearing, but did you say the French boy is his homosexual lover?!"

  
"Yes ladies and gentlemen!" The boy raised his voice, eyes flickering towards Alex and John. "The elixir is a single concoction that does the job of ten!! It rejuvenates the hair cells on your head so that soon you'll be sprouting hair so thick and luscious, your wife will be envious. Why, I used to be an ugly bald child before Lee found me. Look now." He dramatically yanked his hair out of its tie, huge hair flowing out behind him, and the crowd gasped. They were eating out of the palm of his hand. 

  
"Wonder what's in it?" Alex said loudly and Lafayette turned to face them fully, a challenge in his gaze.

  
"The ingredients of the Miracle Elixir are a secret to all but Lee, cultivated from his years of traveling the world."

  
"Do you think he gets paid for every time he used the phrase 'miracle elixir'?" John asked and a few around them snickered.

  
"Here sir!!" The boy crouched down to approach a man with a thinning hairline, pulling the cork out of the vial with a flourish and pouring a few drops of the oily substance onto his bald spot. "Just feel how it stimulates the scalp!"

  
"What in gods name in that smell?!" Alex made a face as though he were about to retch and the crowd began to murmur, several folks sniffing the air with curiosity and disgust. "Smells like it's made from cat piss."

  
" _ Bien, tu veux jouer à ce jeu vous connards _ ?”  the teen muttered something incoherently in French under his breath before turning on his most charming smile yet. "If there are any with  _ doubts _ as to the safeness and cleanliness of this elixir-look!" He stood up to his full height, raised the bottle into the air as if giving a toast, and lowered to his lips, draining its contents in one gulp.

  
"He looks like he's gonna hurl." John said, this time for Alex's ears alone. Indeed, the Frenchman smiled weakly at the audience but the revulsion in his eyes was transparent. He swayed slightly and the tent burst open behind him.

  
"Who dares to challenge my elixir, saying its made from piss?!" The man was huge in height and body mass, trudging across the stage beside Lafayette and placing a meaty hand on the boy to steady him.

  
"It was me." Several shocked faced turned to see Alex, the Beadle included, and John swallowed heavily. _ Will Madison know his face? I didn't. _ "And furthermore I'd like to wager that I can shave a face smoother and quicker than you and without the tricks of your pretty boy."

  
"Well then." The man said after a beat, a lecherous smile stretching across his face. "How about a little contest ay?" The crowd cheered with approval as a path cleared for the long haired barber to make his way to the stage. He looked ridiculously little next to the huge Lee, but his stature was solemn and undeniable.

  
"Is there anyone honorable enough in this crowd to judge?" John called out as a couple volunteers to be shaved took the stage. Madison perked up immediately.

  
"I'm the Beadle of the Church of London, and I serve alongside the great Judge Jefferson." The crowd stilled at the mention of his name.  _ Of course he name drops that dick. _ "It would be my honor to judge fairly this little contest."

  
He approached the stage and all except for two men began to murmur excitedly. The baker and the barber watched the Beadle's face carefully, looking for even the slightest hint of recognition. But he shook both Lee and Alex's hands without a second glance. The tension in the shoulders of both the man in the crowd and the one on stage eased.

  
"Alright ladies and gentlemen pay close attention!" Lafayette was back to his strutting about, albeit a little paler than previously. "On the left we have the fabulous, the famous, Charles Lee!" He paused for applause, which John bitterly abstained from. "And on my right," he spoke with far less enthusiasm and hand gestures. "We have....I'm sorry monsieur I missed your name?"

  
"Hamilton. Alexander Hamilton."

  
It might have been John's imagination but the world seemed to hold its breath as he spoke, morbidly curious. 

  
Lafayette dismissed him with a little wave. "Yes yes monsieur Hamilton. Quickest and cleanest shave wins a pretty penny. What will the men gamble?"

  
"Five shillings!" Lee said boldly, puffing his chest out. Alex shrugged and nodded in agreement, the horde letting their approval be known loudly.

.   
"Five shillings it is!" Lafayettes voice echoed across the square, drawing an even more substantial crowd. Laurens strained on his tiptoes to see, pushing aside several older men unapologetically. "Begin!"

  
The men on either side of the stage began to apply shaving cream to their volunteer's face, Lee working up a lather much quicker than Hamilton.

  
"Ah yes," Lee spoke in a booming voice that matched his appearance, grinning and teasing the crowd as he went along. "To be a barber as skilled and renown as I, you must treat the face as one would a work of art!" He expertly shaved away beneath the man's jaw as Hamilton just began to sharpen his blade, slowly and with care. "You must gently and loving, like a mother would, caress their skin with the blade! It's not a role taken up lightly. I myself have had  _ years _ of practice. Why, as a young lad even I would-"

  
"Done." Alex's voice was soft and hard to make out, but when he stepped out from in front of the man he had been shaving, his face and neck was completely clear of the stubble formerly shadowing it.

  
Lee was staring with a gaping mouth, having barely gotten in the single stroke, as the Beadle examined the man's clean jaw closely.

  
"As smooth as a baby's bottom." He sounded surprised and impressed. "Hamilton is the clear winner." It took several heartbeats for this to settle in, but once the crowd had adjusted to this shift they praised Hamilton loudly, allegiance having shifted as swiftly as Alex’s shave had been.

  
"Five shillings please." Alex held out his hand with finality, no trace of smugness in his voice. Lee looked red in the face as the French boy reluctantly reached into his pocket and handed the coins over.

  
"And if anybody else would like such a skilled barber to attend to them," John pushed to the front of the mass, shouting with enough volume to rival Lafayette. "You'll find Mr. Hamilton on Fleet Street. Right above my pie shop!" 

  
Alex pulled John onto the platform beside him and turned to give Madison a winning grin.  _ His charm is out of practice _ , observed John. The look resembled a grimace really.

  
"Thank you, noble Beadle, for judging so fairly. Truly, your honor and nobility is known throughout the land." The man clearly didn't mind the barber's grim smile, practically preened under his praise.

  
"I simply know talent when I see it sir. Fleet Street you said?"

  
"Yes sir." Both John and Alex answered at once, nodding vigorously.

  
"You'll see me before the week is up."

  
"I shan't charge you a single penny." Promised Alex, shaking the man's hand once more. "And I guarantee you the closest shave you've ever had."

 

* * *

 

  
  
  
"Tell me again Theo, about the goats in Tibet."

  
"You have odd fancies Phillip, I am unsurprised that your favorite of all my tales is the one where an animal devours my coat." The boy snickered from his windowsill.

  
"What truly amuses me,  _ captain _ , is that you didn't even notice, until it was already half gone!" He kept interrupting himself with laughter and Theodosia couldn't resist rolling her eyes fondly.

  
It had been almost a full week that she had come to visit her little musician each dusk, and truly they had become fast friends. He consumed her stories of far off lands with eager ears and rapt focus. And she devoted the same attention to his wonderful music, so mournful and sweet. There was a lightheartedness about him that charmed her, and she felt at ease around the boy as she hadn't since she was a child. She enjoyed being a captain and a respected figure of authority, but it was relaxing to be seen first and foremost as a companion. He reminded her that she was only twenty four, not some old spinster who had already lived through the best years of their life.

  
They did not speak of the way Phillip would constantly glance over his shoulder, or the way his eyes would grow dull and dark. Theo knew that their little game of her standing beneath his window, them pretending everything was normal, was forbidden. She didn't know why, and she dared not ask, but she felt in her gut that her friend was in danger.

  
And they had been growing bold of late, meeting earlier and earlier in the day, speaking for longer and longer periods of time. When they would finally part ways, she would find night had settled in long ago, and sheepishly creep home to avoid Cat's scolding. Last night, in fact, they had been speaking in such detail about everything from their favorite color (Theo's was blue green, Phillip's was soft pink "Like the sky" He'd defended) to their favorite book (both fancied  _ The Picture of Dorian Grey _ but Theo would always have a soft spot for _ Treasure Island _ ) that neither had noticed the hour growing late until the sun had begun to peek over the rooftops, the shade of pink that Phillip so adored illuminating the city.

  
It was in Theo's nature to be cautious, but it slipped away from her in the presence of Phillip. It felt as though the hours were seconds when she spoke with him, the boy full of contagious energy and passion. 

  
"Phillip," He immediately noticed the change in her tone and sulked his chin down on the ledge, reluctant to discuss anything remotely serious. "I have come to care for you greatly in such a short time, and I simply must ask, what are you so scared of?" She hadn't intended to phrase it so bluntly, but once again those giant eyes had robbed her of her eloquence. He sighed deeply.

  
"Theo," It was almost funny, most everyone she knew called her Theo. But from his lips it felt almost special.  _ My own name makes me feel special. _ "I care for you as well. But I cannot burden you with this."

  
"Phillip," She was frustrated deeply by her own helplessness. "I cannot aid you if you do not tell me."

  
"Who says I need your aid? I am not some damsel in distress."

  
"You're right, you are not. It is me who is in distress so please, save me from my worries and tell me how I can help."

  
Her genuineness seemed to finally reach him and he gave her a long look, before reaching for something out of her line of sight, and dropping it at her feet with a small 'clink'.

  
It was a silver key.

  
"The only way anybody can help me is to get me out of here." Theo had never heard such raw emotion in a person's voice before. He sounded desperate and above all, afraid. Nobody so sweet deserved to feel such fear. 

  
She nodded and tucked the key into her pocket, looking up at him with deep purpose.

  
"I swear it Phillip."

  
They stared at each other for a moment that could have lasted seconds or years. Finally, Phillip broke out into his signature corny grin.

  
"It's like a reverse fairytale. Instead of me sneaking into the castle to save the beautiful woman, the beautiful woman will sneak into the castle to save me."

  
"Oh don't feel too jealous, you are plenty beautiful." She teased in return, and he gave a slight smirk.

  
"Is that right?" His low tone made her face flush deeply, and she prayed her blush was concealed by her dark skin.

  
They grinned coyly at one another, too wrapped up in the eyes of the other to notice the front door swinging open. 

  
"Well hello miss." A sultry voice broke Theo out of her giddiness and she tore her eyes away from Phillip to the man speaking.

  
He was a tall, lanky man in a suit that looked to be a faded shade of purple, smiling at her and sauntering over. His hair was wild and untamed, and his grin matched. Her eyes flickered briefly to the window and Phillip was gone.

  
"Good evening. I'm Judge Jefferson but please, call me Thomas." The tall man leaned down to take her hand, kissing it in a manner than was a bit too familiar for strangers, planting his lips just above her wrist. "A pleasure, miss..?"

  
"Burr. Theodosia Burr." She couldn't refuse to give him her name, lest she been seen as rude, let alone refuse a man of such social stature. But something about him made her deeply uncomfortable. His grin grew wider, and he beckoned her towards the open door.

  
"Ah Miss Burr, I couldn't help but notice you admiring my house. Would you care for a tour of the interior?"  _ Maybe I can find Phillip. _

  
"Of course sir-Thomas. Thank you." She hoped her voice did not reflected her uneasiness as she stepped inside.

  
All of her fears vanished at the sight of so grandeur a space. The floor was sleek wood, her reflection glinting off of it, and the furniture was all ornate and damask and reflected his obvious success. Much as Theo frowned upon such displays, she couldn't help but be blown away by just how  _ large _ the house was, the wide marble staircase the size of her entire bedroom.

  
"You have a beautiful home." She breathed, before turning to face him with a sheepish smile. "But I confess I was not admiring it."

  
"No?" His tone gave nothing away, closing the door behind them.

  
"No I...I was lost. I was attempting to find my bearings." She gave him a look of mock embarrassment. 

  
To survive on the ocean, with the lives of all her men resting upon her shoulders, Theodosia had learned that trusting ones own instincts was essential. She had often had to rely on intuition alone when it came to determining if a situation were safe. And right now, every fiber of her body was screaming at her to lie to this man. To turn and run out the door.

  
"Its embarrassing," she continued as Thomas pulled out a chair for her, choosing not to sit himself. The imbalance of power she felt when she sat was clearly intentional, calculated. "For a sailor to loose her bearings. You understand."

  
"A sailor?" He moved to stand behind her, slowly circling her chair as he spoke. "So you have tried many things this world has to offer, yes?"

  
Theo wondered if this man were the reason behind Phillip's constant state of anxiety. He was very creepy and had a air of treachery about him, but wasn't he Phillip's father?

  
"Sir?" She wasn't sure what he meant, not liking the uncertainty blossoming in her chest. When the ocean ahead was guarded by fog too thick to see, it meant it was time to turn back.

  
"You've had lots of experience, I presume. We have that in common." He gave a dry chuckle. "Experience. I'm sure you've met many  _ men _ in your travels around the world eh? Got to try out all sorts of exotic  _ experiences _ ."

  
Theo stood up from her chair slowly, as if she had been instructed not to, but noticed there was now a short but intimidating man standing before the door that hadn't been there before. Thomas stood in front of her, his Cheshire Cat grin never faltering. Never before in her life had Theo's hands trembled but they did now. The man took a step closer to her and she took a step backwards in turn, colliding with a wall.

  
"How would you like to try me?"

  
"Sir I think there's been some sort of misunderstanding-" He slammed his fist against the wall beside her, effectively shutting her up.

  
"Do you take me for an idiot?" He practically roared, and she shrunk back as much as she could manage. "You were leering at  _ my _ Phillip! That boy is not for your disgusting eyes to ravish! He is mine!"

  
"Sir please I wasn't-" She felt shame at how her voice was hardly a squeak, but it was overruled by her fear as he grabbed her by her coat and slammed her into the wall.

  
"What kind of lady throws herself at children?!  _ Children. _ Well you wanna dress like a man? Then I'll strike you like a man." 

  
He tossed her to the ground and Theo let out a cry. The man from the door stepped closer at Thomas' beckon.

  
"Madison, get this filth out of my house. And if I ever see your face around here again I'll make you regret the day your bitch mother ever gave birth to you!"

  
The smaller man yanked her roughly by the arm and practically threw her out the front door and onto the steps. It was late enough that few were still out on the streets. And those who were turned a blind eye to the sight of her tumbling to the dirt. That was the home of the man who controlled the law, and they all valued their families.

  
"Don't take his threat lightly." The man snarled at her, as she sobbed silently where she lay. "You're lucky he had mercy on you." He face contorted into a stretched smirk. "Next time lass, you shan't be so fortunate. It is my business to know things about town. You live with the Greene family correct? Well next time it'll be your brains smashed into the pavement along with theirs." The door was slammed behind him with sharp finality.

  
Theodosia remained crumpled in the dirt. Never in her life had anyone handled her with such brutality and such disrespect. Humiliation consumed her stronger than the pain of being tossed about. She slowly lifted herself off the ground, staring at the door with disbelief. 

  
And gradually, anger.

  
How dare he treat her this way? How dare he make such lewd accusations of her? How dare nobody stop and say something? And how dare he threaten her friends?

  
Theo clutched at her arm where the Beadle had dragged her, already feeling a bruise forming. One thing was certain, those men were utterly evil. And if Phillip was living among them, it would only be a matter of time before the fire in his eyes was snuffed out for good.

  
The memory of the man screaming in her face was jarring, but the thought of Phillip facing anything half as terrible made her unafraid. He was fundamentally good, something that must be protected, and captains were not frightened easily. _ I will save you _ , she thought with resolution, her hand tracing the outline of the key in her pocket. _ I will steal you _ .

 

* * *

 

  
  
The knock at the door took Alex and John by surprise, but the barber quickly rose to his feet.   
"Beadle Madison so soon?" He mused, his words directed more at himself than Laurens. "It's only been a couple hours and-"

  
The door swung open before he could cross the room, the enormous Charles Lee filling the room with his presence, both metaphorically and literally. He was without the French boy this time, letting the door click shut behind him the moment he was through it. The man surveyed the shop quickly and with disgust coloring his expression.

  
"Mr. Hamilton. I came by to congratulate you on a well played match. I didn't realize how desperately you needed the shillings, now I'm glad you won."

  
"You try running a meat pie shop without meat." Laurens snapped, muttering under his breath as he kneaded dough aggressively under his fingers.

  
"Your congratulations are accepted sir." Alex replied smoothly. "But surely that is not the reason you came."

  
"You are correct. It is not." Lee's eyes flickered to the baker. "Perhaps we had better speak in private. What I have come to say is for your ears only, and I try not to keep company with his kind."

  
"My  _ kind _ eh?” John looked up, the dough squishing between his fingers. “Do you know what people are saying about you and that French kid? I'm not the only one with rumors about me." Lee laughed loudly at Laurens words. Mockingly.

  
"I cannot speak for the boy but I find comfort in women. But maybe I could ask Lafayette for you, if you fancy him." Laurens slammed his rolling pin down and moved from behind the counter.

  
"Listen here mudfucker-" 

  
"Perhaps," Alex stopped him with a raised hand and a cold look. _ I do not need his lack of composure getting in the way of my bidding. Not now nor ever. _ "you are correct and we should speak privately. Upstairs?" Lee nodded and followed, throwing the baker a triumphant smirk over his shoulder. John stuck his tongue out at the man.

  
They reached the upstairs room and Lee immediately made himself at home, running his fingers over Alex's blades and picking apart the room with his eyes. The smaller man's skin prickled and he felt a dull anger in his belly. He did not like this man.

  
"I want my shillings back." Lee said casually, moving toward the window. "And I want half of all the profit you make from here on out." 

  
Silence followed his words. Alex didn't know whether to laugh or pity the man and his boldness. He tucked one of the blades the man had smudged his greasy fingers on into his pocket, running the fabric of his shirt against it to polish it.

  
"And why would I do that?" He asked with an arched brow. Lee turned to face him, his outline blocking the light from the window.   
"Because I know your face,  _ Benjamin Barker _ , and last I recall you were imprisoned for life. Funny, does Jefferson know you've returned?" 

  
Alex's face did not betray his thoughts as he simply nodded, making his way gradually across the room to the man.

  
"Very well. Half of all my earnings, you say?" 

  
"Maybe sixty percent," He said greedily, eyes gleaming with easy triumph. "You know, I used to idolize you when I was just a barbers apprentice. I wanted to be just like you. And now I'll have you right under my thumb." Lee's amusement was almost endearing, Alex decided, unsheathing the blade he had in his fist. "When I found Lafayette I wanted him to worship me like that. But the little brat is his own conman. I'll have to keep what I collect from you away from him. He already squeezes more than his twenty percent from me at every chance. He even-"

  
Alex had always possessed an unparalleled speed as a barber, known even as Benjamin Barker for his quick and tidy shaves. See Barker just as your wife sets the table and be back with a smooth face before the children have even taken a seat. But in all his history of rapid maneuvering, he had never moved with half the velocity as he did in this moment.

  
One instant Lee was chattering away, a grin plastered upon his face, when there was suddenly a second grin of red blossoming across his neck. Alex's hand was stretched before him, blade dripping gently with crimson, and Lee made a shocked spluttering sound, reaching for his neck.

  
The man coughed and the red that was leaking from between his fingers gushed forward with violence, as well as blood from his open mouthed retch splattering across Alex's face. The barber grinned.

  
"I think, Mr. Lee, I need not explain that I'll be holding onto those shillings for now. I hope you don't mind." The man lunged for him with his free arm and Alex instinctively swung the blade again, the man howling in agony as another wound opened up on his arm. “Come now,  _ boss _ , surely we can discuss a compromise through more reasonable means?”

  
The giant man continued to reach for Alex, walking towards him with desperation, and Alex continued to swipe his blade across any surface of the man he could reach. The man finally caught a hold of Alex's wrist, his grip weak, and tried to splutter out a sentence. All he achieved was more blood coating the man's shirt before he collapsed on top of him, his weight nearly crushing Alex.

  
"Good God." The barber grumbled, shoving his way out from under the heavy body. A pool of blood was forming around the man and Alex tossed the blade to the ground carelessly, watching Lee's skin go gray with coldness.

  
His shirt was soaked with blood, and he felt it coating his face as well. He picked up the hand mirror he kept beside his shaving chair and grinned at his reflection. Indeed, he was a mess of dripping blood, his eyes looking stark white and alive as a contrast.

  
Footsteps pounded up the stairs and John swung open the door, flour dusted across his forehead where he must have unconsciously wiped it.

  
"Are you alright? I heard yelling and-oh." He caught sight of the body, surveying the scene, and gave a disappointed _ tsk _ . "Well that rug is ruined for certain."

  
"John," Alex breathed and the man's eyes met his. He found it fascinating how the bakers entire posture shifted, his eyes filling with concern.

  
"None of that blood is yours, aye?" He said with deep care coloring his tone, and Alex closed the distance between them.

  
"John I feel alive. That was a mere taste of what it will feel like to tear out Jefferson's throat. A  _ taste _ of what those who try to wrong me will face." He felt like a man possessed, and he took John's face in his hands and kissed him hungrily.

  
The man gasped but melted into his touch, not seeming to mind the way the blood stained his clothing and face with every touch.

  
"I have wanted this," Laurens breathed between kisses, Alex biting at his neck with enough fervor to draw blood. "For so long."

  
"Don't speak." Alex replied, working on the buttons of his shirt. _ Don't ruin this moment with words. _

  
The two eventually tumbled to the ground, Alex's hands rough and needy, and John moaning something Alex thought sounded a bit like the word  _ finally _ . They crashed together in a mixture of teeth and tongue and blood, as the corpse grew cold on the floor beside them.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> bien, tu veux jouer à ce jeu vous connards ? = alright, you wanna play this game you assholes?
> 
> I apologize to anyone who speaks French for the google translated version.


	5. Sensitivities

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Two updates in one day because I didn't feel like sleeping(:

They had debated what to do with the body for several uncomfortable minutes, the room thick with the stench of sweat and dried blood. It was still too early in the day to bury him, and there was no way not to attract attention, lugging around such a huge bag. To make matters worse, the man was too fat to fit into the furnace.

 

"We can't just let him rot up here." John had said with deep exasperation, Alex gazing pensively out the window. "If you could quit glooming about like some fairytale villain maybe we could shove him into the freezer. God knows I ain't storing anything else in there."

  
And so the duo had practically rolled him down the stairs and stuffed him into the cold little room, John wheezing from the strain. They rewarded themselves with hefty servings of ale after, the dead man's blood flaking and cracking off their skin and around the shop.

  
"We out to get cleaned up." Alex muttered, hair matted with deep red, and John nodded.   
"There's a faucet and some buckets in my room. You can go first love."  _ You're worse off than I am. _

  
Alex nodded and went around to John's bedroom, leaving the baker to his own devices. John touched his neck tenderly, where several small dark marks Alex had left him were beginning to form. He grinned wickedly.  _ That man gives a whole new meaning to 'bloodlust' _ .

  
A knock at the door made him jump, and he glanced down at himself in fear. His shirt had several streaks of blood across it, he had Alex's eager hands to thank for that, and his room was currently occupied.

  
"Don't get customers for weeks on end and suddenly this place is a fucking tourist destination." He grumbled, looking around wildly for a way to cover himself. But like a few hours ago, the door swung open without a second knock.

  
The young French boy, Lafayette if John remembers correctly, stepped inside. His posture was much less pompous than it had been up on stage. In fact, he appeared to be almost meek, eyes fixed on the floor.

  
"Your shirt is bloody." He observed after a moment of silence.  _ Rude little shit. _

  
"I was preparing the meat for my pies." John narrowed his eyes at him. "What do you want here lad? Looking for a kick in the ass?"

  
Lafayette finally looked up to meet his gaze and John's words felt heavy on his tongue. The boy's cheek sported a huge, fist shaped bruise, a dark purple against his skin.

  
"Mr. Lee said he was paying you monsieurs a visit." He was bolder now, daring John to challenge him. "I'm looking for him. He owes me money."

  
"C'mere boy." He pulled up a stool for the boy, empathy softening his movements, and poured him a small glass of whiskey. "Ever drank before before?"

  
"Yes sir," Laf nodded, drowning the glass without a flinch. "Practically chugged this stuff out of the womb. And don't call me boy."

  
"Listen....Laf." He didn't protest the nickname so John continued. "Your boss did stop by here, but it was to tell Mr. Hamilton that the competition would be too stiff for him to remain here any longer. He skipped town." The boy wrinkled his nose in confusion.

  
" _ ça n'a pas de sens _ , but all of his stuff is still here. But...but he would've taken me with him." John shrugged.

  
"I don't know his reasoning. Only what he said."

  
" _ Ce bâtard pas cher _ ," He held his cup out. "More whiskey if you please." John smiled a bit and refilled his glass. Once the teenager had finished his cup, blinking pleasantly, John motioned towards his cheek.

  
"The fat man, he hit you?"

  
" _ Oui monsieur _ . We were not fond of each other." He laughed hoarsely. "But I relied upon him for my living. I'm afraid now I have nowhere to go."

  
"You can stay here." John didn't know if it were pity or guilt that prompted his words, but the boy looked at him in disbelief.

  
"Truly? You know that they whisper about me,  _ oui _ ? They think I am some gay sexual deviant."   
"They whisper the same about me." John waved his concerns away, the idea having made a home amongst his thoughts. "I could use a boy to help out around the shop. Besides, are you trying to talk me out of it?"

  
" _ Non non monsieur _ !" He said rapidly and stood up, swaying slightly from the liquor, and held out his hand to John. "Never in my life have I received so kind an offer without a dear cost."  _ He's just a child, what kind of dear costs could he have been put through?  _ John shook his hand, already growing attached like one might to a very dear pet.

  
"Great. You can start by sweeping up this filthy place."

  
The boy nodded enthusiastically, grabbing at the broom in the corner and sweeping slowly. He seemed to be clutching the broom for balance, and he made quite the amusing sight; tripping over his own feet and humming as he went about his work.  _ Alex won't mind will he? _

  
"Keep it up, I'll be back in a heartbeat."

  
John opened the door to his room a crack and crept inside. Alex was dressing himself in a new clean shirt, his bloody clothes discarded along the floor, and John crossed the room to him.

  
"Alex, that French boy from earlier is here. He came looking for Lee."

  
"Send him up to my shop." Alex said simply and John reeled back.

  
"Alex I...I already convinced him Lee skipped town. And he's just a boy. It would look suspicious for both to go missing suddenly."

  
"No it wouldn't," Alex spoke with finality. "They travel together, it's what they are known for. Send him up."

  
"I could always use an extra hand around the shop." John's voice was pleading and Alex rolled his eyes and turned away from him, giving up.

  
"If you are soft on every sob story you hear John you'll get taken advantage of." His words were hard but not unkind. "Men are cruel, you will get hurt." 

  
John placed his hands on the shoulders of his haunted barber, daring to plant a light kiss on his jaw.  _ You are the only one with the power to hurt me, love. _

  
It was unspoken but he knew Alex heard the words nonetheless. Alex turned and returned the kiss, pressing his lips to John's cheek, but it felt dry and empty.

  
"Fine. The boy can stay." 

  
It was far from a proclamation of love, but John's heart soared all the same.

 

* * *

 

  
  
"Do you admit then, that you knowingly stole from the fruit merchant not once, not twice, but on  _ three _ separate occasions?" Jefferson peered down from his judge's stand at the criminal standing before him.

  
The boy looked to be no more than five, and unable to control his sniveling and weeping. Jefferson tapped his fingers against the wood impatiently and the child blew his nose on his sleeve, then finally nodded with false repentance. Jefferson slammed his gavel down in three sharp beats.

  
"Execution by hanging. His sentence will be carried out at dawn." The child started howling as the guards took him away, and the courtroom began to clear shortly after.

  
It was his last trial of the day, and he was exhausted from having to exhaust his wisdom upon the desecrate rouges that were apparently just let loose on the streets. _ I'll clean up this city, one way or another. _ He removed his heavy white wig and stepped down just as Madison approached him.

  
"A righteous and noble judgement, my lord."

  
"I know." He sneered, as the men began to walk home. He had been in a foul mood all week.   
"Truly my lord, you are beloved by all."

  
"Not all." He sighed heavily, irritable demeanor diminished, and turned to face Madison. "Of late Phillip has been...belligerent towards me. Almost spiteful. As if he does not love me."

  
"Ungrateful." Madison shook his head. "He is headstrong, my lord. You'd think that since you raised him he would be a bit more appreciative." Jefferson nodded in agreement, not even minding for once that Madison was kissing his ass. 

  
"Indeed. I don't know what about me is worth refusing. Am I not handsome?" He stood in front of Madison and delighted in the way the man gulped, eyes trailing over the Judge's form.

  
"S-sir you are indeed. But if you'll forgive me for saying so, the boy is young. And the youth are often far harder to please in means of appearance." Jefferson snorted.

  
"Then what do you suggest, James? Am I to never touch him again because of a slight difference of age?" The Beadle seemed to like that idea, but he smiled reluctantly.

  
"Well sir, perhaps with a little shave and a dab of cologne, he will find you irresistible. Young people and their sensitivities, you know. Although I don't see why it matters, you have hardly waited for his approval in the past."

  
"A shave eh?" Jefferson chose to ignore the man's last comment, chalking it up to his transparent jealousy when it came to the judges ward.

  
"Yes sir," Madison nodded. "I know of an excelled barber. New to town. Never before have I seen such a clean shave. He'll have Phillip eating out of your hand, sir."

  
"I'll see him tomorrow then, first thing." He declared and a couple of minutes of comfortable silence ensued before Jefferson cleared his throat. "I can see you are wondering why I suddenly care what Phillip thinks of me." Madison didn't respond and so he went on. "The boy has expressed a sudden...restlessness of late. He wants to leave, I can feel it. It is not enough to have him like some prisoner any longer. I need him to want to stay." _ To want me. _

_  
_ "You want the boy to love you." Madison noted softly, and Jefferson nodded.

  
"Well, it's the only way I can ensure he's safe from the outside world. Men can be cruel you know."

  
"Indeed they can." Madison agreed heartily.

  
The two continued to mildly chat for the rest of their walk home, men women and children alike crossing to the other side of the road to give them a clear pathway.   
  


 

* * *

 

 

"Mr. Hamilton?" 

  
_ For the love of God, how many people will come into this damn shop this week?  _ John stepped out from behind the counter to see a rather tall woman with long wavy hair looking around hesitantly.

  
"You're looking for Alex?" John felt sharp jealousy prick at him. What did this pretty young thing want with his barber? She nodded, her eyes wide and sweet.

  
"Yes sir. I...I am a friend of his."

  
"Yeah I'll bet you are." He grumbled and stood at the foot of the stair. "Alex!" He shouted up. "There's a girl here for you."

  
The man trudged down the stairs and what appeared to be a genuine smile appeared in his face when he saw the girl.

  
"Theodosia." She beamed.

  
"Mr. Hamilton! Oh it is good to see you again!" She swiftly approached him, a little bit taller than him, and gave him an imploring look. "But I came here, truly, because I need your help."

  
" _ Dieu tout-puissant , tu es belle _ ," a voice breathed as Lafayette appeared from the back, almost dropping his bags of flour in a rush to take the girl's hand and kiss it delicately. "Mademoiselle, it is enchanting to meet you. Please, call me Lafayette." Alex scowled.

  
"Get out of here boy." He turned to face the girl as Laf scammed away into the back room once more. John watched as began to mix the flour and water to start a fresh batch of dough, eyes narrowed. "Miss Burr, what do you need?"

  
"There is a boy," She breathed, and John almost fainted with relief. "And he is being held prisoner by an awful man. Judge Jefferson or something like that." Alex's eyes flickered to John for a fraction of an instant but it was enough. "And the boy, Phillip, asked me to help him escape. I spoke to my former first mate and he said he can find me a temporary crew ready to go next Friday morning. I'll steal Phillip away next Thursday night, if he agrees to it, and then we can sail away to my father's home in France. I have already written him. The Judge and his Beadle know where I live, so I cannot hide Phillip there. Please sir, I beg you, if I could just hide him here for a single night. It is our only chance."

  
Alex took a long moment to register all this information, John watching him carefully for any show of emotion. The man nodded, taking another moment before finally trusting his voice.

  
"O-of course Miss Burr. Let me know once the boy agrees."

  
"Oh thank you Mr. Hamilton." She looked near tears, and enveloped him a short but strong hug. "I can never repay you for this."

  
"Repay me by protecting him." His voice was hoarse and she looked confused.

  
"Here love," John pulled out a chair for her. "I'll have Laf fix you a drink. Alex? A word?"

  
They went into John's bedroom, a cot now taking up most of the floor for the boy, and shut the door behind them. Alex grabbed John's arm to steady himself, his breathing deep and slow.

  
"There there love." John place a hand over his, slotting their fingers together. "Why the fuss? This is brilliant. You'll steal your son away from Jefferson and get to see him again."

  
"For a few hours before he leaves for France forever." He said bitterly.

  
"Well, since you're so fond of the-" He made a slitting motion across his throat. "Just kill the girl once she brings him here."

  
"And I thought you were fond of children." Alex's eyes glistened. "I won't kill her John."

  
"Soft on her?" John growled and Alex gave him a sharp look.

  
"I don't need your irrational jealousy, especially considering I am not yours." He looked like he wanted to slap John but it would have been redundant. His words stung enough. "She saved my life when I was lost at sea. A miserable life to save, but I wouldn't be here at all without her. If I can repay her by giving her my son, so be it."

  
Outside the room, Lafayette was pouring Theodosia a glass of ale, attempting appear suave as he lifted the heavy pitcher with one hand.

  
"You got a boyfriend Miss?" He grinned at her cheekily as she took a sip of the drink, not one to trade away her wits easily. 

  
"You are from France?" She asked, ignoring his question entirely. He nodded.

  
" _ Oui madame _ , I miss it terribly. I was taken and dragged here when I was just a little lad." 

  
"I am headed there in a few weeks time. If you'd like I could take you back with me." His eyes lit up.

  
"Oh I would be most grateful. I will have to ask monsieur Laurens first. I am terribly fond of him." He gave her a sultry look. "However I cannot resist a beautiful woman asking me to run away with them. Am I to be your companion on this voyage?"

  
"I don't babysit." She replied curtly and stood, placing a few coins upon the counter. "Tell Mr. Hamilton I can grateful for his help, and I will see him as soon as I speak with Phillip."

  
Lafayette watched her go with a dramatic sigh, pocketed the coins for himself. 

  
" _ J'espère que rien de mauvais arrive à une si jolie fille. _ "

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> ça n'a pas de sens=That makes no sense
> 
> Ce bâtard pas cher=Cheap bastard
> 
> J'espère que rien de mauvais arrive à une si jolie fille=I hope nothing bad happens to so pretty a girl


	6. I Swear to God You'll Never Feel So

It felt like all day Theo waited in the alleyway, watching the doors of the Judges house. She'd begun to frequent local bars, eager to pick up any information she could on the vile men who lived within the mansion's dark walls. It was only through flirting (which she wasn't proud of) and getting men very drunk that they would even dare to speak against Jefferson.   
  


"He'll execute anybody." A man with scars across his face slurred. "Or just send them away to prison for life. Like he did that barber just 'cause he wanted to fuck his wife."   
  


"So it's true." She'd muttered to herself, and had leaned in closer, fluttering her eyelashes.   
  


"You're a smart man. Do you remember what happened to that...that barber and his wife?"

 

"Oh she died." He scoffed, waving towards the bartender for another drink. "But, I heard the Judge kept his son for himself."   
  


Oh Phillip, what have you seen? She thought sadly, thinking of his poor father away in prison, no family left in the world.   
  


"Oh, I know about that Judge." A woman had told her one night. The two had immediately found each other, Theo having never encountered another woman in the place so late, let alone another one in pants.   
  


The lady had an elegance about her, despise the jaded look in her eyes, and her fingers twisted around a line of bright pearls against her dark skin as she bought Theo a drink. She hadn't even needed alcohol in her system to begin talking about the man.   
  


"Jefferson is evil. He destroys lives without a regard to any but himself. Why do you want to know about him?"   
  


"I plan to steal from him." Theo trusted the woman, but not enough to elaborate. It was not only her own life she was gambling, but the life of her dearest friend. The woman had laughed.   
  


"He has stolen from many. Your little justice will be cute. But his house is never really empty. Him and his Beadle go to the courthouse for trials every day but Friday to Sunday. However he leaves behind his ward."   
  


"The boy won't even know I'm there." She assured this woman, almost giddy at having received the information needed. With her business attended to, she had turned to the woman curiously.   
"Has he ever stolen from you, miss..?" The lady took a long drink, wiping her mouth gracelessly on the back of her hand, and didn't quite meet Theo's gaze.   
  


"He has." She didn't give out her name. "He is responsible for the death of...someone I held most dear. The kindest soul to ever walk the earth."   
  


The lady's obvious agony had wounded Theo, and her resolve felt stronger than ever. She waited in the alleyway until sure enough, the two men left into an elaborate horse drawn chaise, locking the door as they went.   
  


She waited until they were well out of sigh and the streets relatively clear before making her way quickly to the door, insisting her small silver key, and shutting it firmly behind her.   
The living room was just as beautiful as before, if not more so without the looming presence of the judge. It was dark, all the lights off, except for a faint glow emanating from a hallway at the top of the stairs.  _ Phillip _ .   
  


Her every footstep felt heavy, echoing across the empty space, and she half expected Jefferson or Madison to jump out of every corner, making good on their threats. But everything remained silent, and she took a breath before turning to knob of what she assumed was Phillip's room, feeling as though she had taken a step down a road in which there was no going back. The course of her life would be forever altered if she continued.   
  


She swung open the door.   
  


She had assumed correctly, as the curly haired boy sat at a writing desk, scribbling furiously. There was a brief moment before he looked up, and in that moment Theo drank in his appearance like ale. The boy who had been so haunting her dreams and waking thoughts was right before her, a pencil tucked behind his ear and a captivating intense expression on his face.    
His eyes turned to meet her, and he blinked before a huge grin stretched across his face.   
  


"Theodosia! You came!"   
  


"I am here to rescue you." She returned his smile, and he leapt to his feet.   
  


"You came for me!! You can take me away from here!" He paced the room excitedly. "I don't even have to be in this city anymore. Take me...take me to Peru! Take me to Spain! I want to see all the wonderful places you have been, and more! I want to see  _ everything _ ."   
  


"We can go anywhere you wish." She promised softly, and he stopped in his pacing to stare at her, as if just realizing she were standing within a few feet of him, no windowsill and sky between them.   
  


Phillip crossed the room in an instant and she was in his arms, his hug crushing and eliciting a surprised little giggle from her.   
  


"I have never seen you up close before." He leaned back, not moving his arms from around her, and examined her with his signature grin. "You look so tiny out on the ground, I didn't know you would be just as short up close." She scoffed with mock anger, having to tilt her head back to look him fully in the eyes.   
  


"Well I did not anticipate my little musician friend would be so inhumanly tall. I'm not used to having to look  _ up _ in order to have a proper conversation."   
  


"Oh but you are," He laughed, and hugged her to him once again. "You foolish little sailor, you look up  _ every  _ conversation we have."   
  


She leaned against him, this embrace coming as less of a surprise, so she had time to wrap her arms around his neck and sign into his shoulder.

  
"Phillip, it is good to finally meet you face to face."   
  


"And you as well." He spoke gently, once again only releasing her enough so that he could see her face. She felt hyper aware of how warm his hands were on her back, how many freckles covered his face.  _ Did he always have so many freckles? _

 

"I had no idea how evil the men you lived with were." His eyes grew dark at her words but not with their usual grief. With rage.   
  


"I heard the way he screamed at you. The way he threw you about like you were one of his whores." Phillip snarled, she had never seen such anger on his face and it disturbed her. She rested a hand on his cheek to calm him and it seemed to work instantly, his eyes returning to normal. Returning to her.   
  


"It is not myself I am worried for, I do not have to live with him. Listen, I have a friend where I can hide you while I ready my boat. If you say you will come with me I can come for you Thursday night. We can be out of the city entirely before dawn. You just need to be packed and ready to go, we can take my boat and-"   
  


"Yes." His voice was brimming over with hope, raw and unbroken. "God, I can be ready Thursday. I've been ready my whole life. I...I'll really be free?" Theo hugged him to her once more, her grip fierce and protective.   
  


"You shall be free. And I won't let anyone harm you again." He laughed and looked at her, wiping away the hint of a tear forming in his eyes.   
  


"We are running away together." He seemed to find the prospect amusing but the way he worded it made her blush, and she felt all too cognizant of how close they were standing. Yet she made no motion to move away.   
  


"How long until the Judge returns?" She said after a beat and Phillip glanced to the window behind him.   
  


"Not for several hours, I expect. He has only just left, and his trials often last well into the night."  _ So you don't have to leave yet, _ it was unspoken but Theo heard it all the same.   
  


"Maybe you could play me another piano song. I should like to witness the artist at work up close."   
  


"Maybe." He repeated, and she watched his eyes trace her face, as if she were some fantastic creature he had never seen before. She finally pulled away from their embrace, finding it hard to breathe.   
  


He smiled and moved to the piano seat, sitting on the far right and patting the open space beside him. The little bench was small and once again, Theo found herself pressed closed to him. He pressed his fingers lightly against the keys before turning to her, cheeks pink.   
  


"I uh, I wrote a new piece recently. For you." Theo was suddenly very interested in staring down at the ivory keys. Anywhere but those eyes. She nodded shyly.   
  


"Let's hear it then."   
  


"Right. Okay." He took a shaky breath and began to play.   
  


The song was soft and sweet. The slow melody seemed to fill the entire room as well as Theodosia. Even if the song were not as beautiful as it was, the charm was that it had been written for  _ her _ .  _ He wrote me a song. God, what is this boy doing to me?  _   
  


The song ended much too soon and he turned to face her expectantly. He was wearing his whole heart on his sleeve, she could see, and so she cleared her throat.   
  


"It was...Phillip it was enchanting." She finally met his eyes and saw her reflection within them.   
  


"You are enchanting." He responded softly, like a loud voice might shatter the world around them. There silence that followed was long and eternal, neither breaking the others gaze.  _ Is it my turn to speak? Say something Theo! _ __  
  


"I-thank you. Phillip. I find you to be...enchanting as well." The words felt lame and weak on her lips and she cursed herself for lack of eloquence.    
  


Phillip sat up straighter and seemed to hesitate a moment before moving to take both of her hands in his, his thumbs caressing small circles onto her skin. Theo felt dizzy.   
  


"Theodosia," once again he spoke in whisper. "I cannot convey in words how grateful I am that it was you who heard my music that day you found me." His eyes were silently asking the question his words did not.   
  


"Then convey it without words." She answered, and his hand lifted to hold her cheek and tilt her face to him.   
  


They gazed at one another for a heartbeat, not breathing at all, before he very slowly and gently pressed his lips to hers.   
  


Her eyes fluttered shut and she responded instantly, leaning in close and pressing back with fervor. It felt far sweeter than anything she had tasted in this lifetime, and made her feel as though the entirety of the ocean were pulsating inside her.    
  


Theo tilted her head and he deepened the kiss in response, other hand moving to the small of her back to pull her against his chest. She felt his heart beating as hard and fast as her own, and after several long moments but still much too soon she pulled back. Both were breathing hard, and she watched the boy unconsciously lick his lips, nearly driving her completely mad.   
  


"Theodosia." He breathed and she waited for the rest of his sentence but it seemed that was all he had to say. Her name.   
  


"My Phillip." She responded before deciding the separation was unbearable, and she wrapped her arms around his neck and crushed their lips together once more.   
  


This time both were much less gentle, mouths parted slightly as tongues collided and hands grabbed at clothing in an effort to somehow move even closer. One of his hands found their way into her hair and she nearly moaned against his lips. His other hand, having found its way onto her waist, lifted her slightly and she was pulled into his lap.  _ Good _ , she thought, of a one track mind. Her only objective, indeed it felt like the only objective she had ever had, was to be closer to him. As close as was humanly possible, and maybe then some. 

 

This time, after several minutes had passed, it was he who broke the kiss, and it appeared to have taken a great effort for him to do so.   
  


"Theo we must...we must stop for I cannot bear to not go further."  _ Then let us go further _ , she nearly whined but he continued reluctantly. "It...it's not safe for you to be here too much longer. The thought of Thomas catching us." She nodded and pried herself off of him, struggling to smooth down her hair and catch her breath. "Believe me, it is not because I don't want to continue. You...you make me feel pure again," The words ' _ pure _ ' and ' _ again _ ' struck something within her, as if there were a piece to the puzzle she were missing. But the taste on her lips was too sweet to dwell on such things. "Besides," he stood up and took her hands once more, the mischievous light she adored ever present in his eyes. "We will have all the time in the world for this come Thursday, right?"   
  


"Right." _The rest of our lives, even._   
  


The idea of staying put in one place, of remaining stagnant, used to terrify Theodosia to her core. But the thought of being with Phillip forever, of having her little musician beside her always, did not frighten her. It was the most simple and obvious thought she had ever had in her life.   
  


Phillip pulled her to him and kissed her once more, soft and chaste, and it took all her willpower not to deepen it.   
  


"I will see you Thursday." She moved for the door, pulling her hands away from his.   
  


"And ever day after that?" He probably intended to come off as cheeky, but his plea was almost childlike.    
  


"As long as you want me Phillip, I will be yours." She promised, and all the darkness seemed to drain from his eyes completely.   
  


"Until then my sweet sailor." He whispered before she closed the door behind her and escaped the large mansion.   
  


She couldn't wait to tell Mr. Hamilton, almost running as she headed straight for Fleet Street, the melody of a piano twisting sweetly around her heart.   


**Notes for the Chapter:**

> (I couldnt resist my favorite character making a lil guest appearance)
> 
> The next chapter will be a lot longer but it probably won't be for a couple of days, as finals are consuming my life


	7. Who Gets Eaten and Who Gets To Eat

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I used the line from the musical in the summary so I had to throw it in.
> 
> Thank you all for your super kind comments! I (hopefully) did great on all my finals and now its suuuuummmeerrrr

Ever since Lee had mysteriously "left town" a couple days ago, business had been more alive than ever. Well, for Mr. Hamilton at least.

Customers flooded in through the doors, quickly rushing through the pie shop through the upstairs doors and leaving with clean faces and only praises on their tongues. John would leave out freshly baked pies, in case any were hungry, but it seemed as though every one of the men who came to see Alex had _just_ eaten.

But John had made peace somewhat with how atrocious his pies tasted. He had his Alex in the room upstairs, and he was quite fond of Lafayette, who had a knack for pickpocketing the customers especially rude to John. The baker had felt a happiness crept into his bones without warning, one that surprised him by refusing to take wing no matter how apathetic Alex acted. They had enough money for lighting a fire when the man was cold, and he was always willing to keep John's company in bed. (The baker had very quickly moved Lafayettes cot to the storage room. "For your own privacy dearie." He'd assured the lad.)

Alex was brooding at his window as usual, his latest customer just clearing out. The sun had just began to set, the sweet light of dusk filling the room, but the orange lights framing Alex's silhouette looked almost ominous.

The sight of the man constantly at the window used to disturb John, as he often heard the man muttering to himself as he gazed about the town. The baker wondered what ghosts he was seeing out there, what demons plagued his vision. But John had always been surprisingly adaptable, having had to develop this trait as a gay poor man living alone, and had adjusted to his lover's odd habits.

"The boy tells me he might leave to France with your little sailor friend." John wrapped his arm through the nook of Alex's, resting his chin against the man, who merely grunted to show he heard. "I know you don't care for him, so think how nice it'll be to be just the two of us again. And without you even having to kill him." He meant it as a tease but suddenly Alex lurched forward, face pressed against the window, and let out a gasp. John turned to see where his gaze fell and let out a gasp of his own.

  
"The judge." The baker breathed.

Indeed, Jefferson, a tall figure in the dark, was making his way down the street right towards the pie shop. He stopped for a moment, gazing disdainfully at the sign, before pushing open the door as the duo heard the bell ring downstairs, the sound as faint as though it were occurring in another universe.

"Out!" Alex roared, jerking away from John. "Go and make him feel welcome!! I must tidy up in here!! This is my justice!"

  
John was practically shoved down the stairs and Alex quickly assessed the room. He could hear an echo of John's wit in the back of his mind _"good thing we got rid of that rug"_ but quickly shook his head. He wanted his thoughts clear. He wanted to be focused.

Alex heard footsteps upon the stairs, tantalizingly slow, and he almost forgot to breath, standing calmly beside his chair, pretending to examine his blades. There was suddenly a shadow in the doorway as the footsteps ceased and there he was. Judge Thomas Jefferson.

Ghosts began to flood Alex's vision and he blinked harshly to keep the colors of the room from fading around him. But the image of the judge in another time and place was too strong, too dominant.

Ironically, the first time he had laid eyes on the man was at Eliza, his Betsey, and his wedding. But it was not the first time the man had seen him, evidently.

"Congratulations sir." The judge had shook his hand firmly, the barber glowing like the universe were inside him, and he had shaken it back with fervor.

"Hello sir, thank you for attending our wedding." He had drawn his wife _his wife_ to him then, so unaware of repercussion. So unaware that there was a world outside of her touch and smile.

"I make it my business to attend all the local weddings. Being the ultimate voice of the law, and all." His tone had an air of annoyance, as though he were offended the man didn't immediately recognize him and kneel at his feet.

"Your honor." The barber's grin was goofy, and the Judge then turned to Eliza, something predatory in his gaze that the groom had failed to notice as he bent low to kiss her hand.

"The most beautiful bride in the land. It is good to see you again Elizabeth."

Alex cursed himself as the memory plagued him, that sweet day tarnished by his own foolishness. How had he missed the way she had squirmed under that man's touch? The way his eyes had lingered too long to be proper.

"Hello sir." The present day Jefferson, presence more jolting than any ghoulish recollections, smiled amiably and crossed the room to shake his hand, skin deceitfully warm and soft, just like their initial handshake a lifetime ago had been.

He was grinning as if he hadn't, with a single sentence, ended Alex's entire life, hadn't sent his entire world spinning into a black abyss. Alex was a shell, like an empty oyster, and here was the man who had devoured his insides, smiling and tossing him aside without a glance to reach for the next.

"Truly an honor, Judge Jefferson. I am new to town but I have already heard of your incorruptible wisdom."

"I have heard of you as well, sir." He had to look down to address Alex. _Suiting, he thinks the whole world beneath him._ "My Beadle claims to have never met a more accomplished barber."

  
"A gracious man." Alex motioned for the Judge to sit. "He is kind to say so, I am only a humble worker."

"Yes yes," Jefferson interrupted him with a rude little hand gesture, slumping himself down into the seat and crossing his legs. "I need something to make me more....alluring." The man was known for his lack of a conscious, lack of shame, but he sounded almost embarrassed. Alex arched a brow, beginning to sharpen his sweet silver blades.

"May I ask what for, sir? Is it your intention to woo a lucky woman?"

"A lucky man." He replied and Alex flinched on instinct. The man was free of all consequences regarding the law, great power can insure that, however it was still shocking to hear him speak of a known sin so brazenly. Not that Alex was in any position to judge the judge.

"I can give you a smooth shave, a smart trim of the hair, and a splash of perfume. Neither woman nor man shall be able to say no." _A useless quality, as you do not even know the meaning of the word._

"This one says no to many things a reasonable soul wouldn't." He complained under his breath, leaning back and letting his eyes shut.

Alex fought to still his trembling hand, the man's throat exposed and bare before him. The Judge's eyes were closed, he wouldn't even see the blade coming before it was too late. Alex almost groaned at the fantasy unwinding behind his eyes, so close. Maybe the Judge's eyes would flicker open and he'd try to speak, like Charles had. How sweet the vile man's blood had felt across his face, the Judge's would feel like the elixir of youth in comparison. _If even a drop of his throat blood touches my flesh I shan't waste water by sending it down the drain. I'll scrape my tongue across every drop, and have Laurens drink away what I cannot reach. I'll rape the taste of his life away, like he raped my wife._

"Well, are you going to begin or shall I sit here all evening?" The man's annoyed gaze brought Alex's focus painfully back into reality, and the barber gave him a smile of warmth and anticipation. _Patience_ , his baker crooned in his ear. _Patience, love._

"Does the lad you fancy know of your feelings?" He applied the shaving lotion delicately, hands practically caressing the man's jugular. The judge snorted.

"He would be of severely low intelligence not to. However, I fear my....place in his life is what holds him back. You see, he is my ward."

Almost, _almost_ Alex lost his composure, hands stilling for a fraction of an instant. He had to bite down on his tongue hard enough to draw blood to keep his mind from swimming away, the pain anchoring him to this reality. The reality in which the murderer of his wife and the keeper of his child laid helpless before him.

"I see." He managed, tone neutral as he was capable of. "Is he...attractive?" _Phillip oh my sweet little boy._

 

"I got the feeling you were like me when I walked in." Jefferson snickered. "Of course you are, with that pretty little baker just downstairs." _I am nothing like you._ "Yes, he is….beautiful."

"Like his mother?"

"Pardon?"

"Does he have a lover?" Alex replied smoothly and the Judges eyes fluttered shut again.

"No, he is a loyal boy. I simply wish to...ground him to me." _How amusing, you can bind all the people you want to you but cannot make them love you._

"I am sure he will bend to your will." Alex shaved the side of his cheeks quickly and cleanly, the only thing remaining was the center of his neck. _Now the time has come for you to bend to my will._

 

The was no sound of feet upon the stairs to prelude the door slamming open, no warning shouts or voices, and Alex was so taken aback that the razor fell from his hand. Theodosia stood in the doorway, panting, talking so rapidly that her eyes were clearly not in correlation with her tongue, otherwise she was so caught up in her words that the presence of the judge escaped her.

 

"Mr. Hamilton thank god! It's wonderful, Phillip has agreed to run away with me! And what's more Mr. Hamilton, I think I'm in love! And I-"

The judge stood up, the words dying on her lips and her eyes flickered between the two men. Understanding, dark and heavy, dawned on her face.

 

"You!" He roared, pointed a finger at the lady as though he held the power to strike her dead with the gesture. "You _dare_ come near my Phillip after I warned you! And as for you," He turned to Alex, who watched the world slip from between his fingers as the Judge disdainfully wiped the last of the lotion of his neck with his sleeve. "I see what kind of company you keep. If filth like this is welcome in your establishment you shan't see me again."

At some point Laurens must have come up the stairs behind her, and Jefferson ruthlessly shoved past them both, Alex not moving at all as he heard the door to the bakery close behind the man, close on his glorious chance to watch the Judge die at his feet.

There were several long moments of silence, each of their hearts pounding in their chests, before Laurens took a step further into the room, looking at though he were about to speak. Alex beat him to it.

"Get out." It was soft at first, and John thought the words might be directed at him. But the blind fury in his eyes was unmistakably directed at Theodosia when the barber looked up, voice practically shaking the foundation. "I said _get out._ "

"Sir-" she protested but he began to move towards her, his stride heavy with such purpose that she immediately scrambled for the door, this time her footsteps heavy and quick behind her.

"Alex." John crossed to him where he had frozen in the center of the room, and the intensity of his gaze was suddenly directed at the baker.

"You told me to wait." He snarled. "It was _you_ who placated me like a child with instructions of patience. With instructions to wait. Well, I am _past_ patiently waiting John." He slung an arm around the man but it was far from affectionate, practically dragging him to the window. "Look at them all!"

John swallowed heavily, struggling to make out any forms in the darkness. But after a couple blinks to adjust his eyes it was clear; the streets of London were empty.

"Every person out there is snug in their beds, sleeping with their wives and children safely under their roofs with them." His voice was strained with fury, sounding raw and strained, as though he had spent the past hour screaming. He let out a sudden laugh, tightening his grip around John. "John, my dearest Laurens, I have had a great epiphany. I was afraid that losing my chance at vengeance would drive me insane, but indeed it has opened my eyes." He spun John to face him, eyes burning and distant. "They all deserve to die." He laughed once more and released John so suddenly that the baker almost tumbled to the floor. Alex slammed a first against the window, his grin illuminated by the faint moonlight. "I thought the root of all evil was within the Judge. What foolishness. Evil lives within the stomach of every man woman and child. No one is free from it. All deserve death. Why, even the great philosopher Thomas Hobbes said all men are born wicked, and their lust for power ends only at death." He clutched at one of his blades as he spoke, holding it up like a mirror. "I am not the first to realize this great truth, Laurens." He faced the man again. "But I will be the first to execute it." He held out his free hand to John, which the man took and was immediately pulled close. "We all deserve death Laurens, even you. Even I. You are right love, _patience._ ” It sounded almost mocking, the parody of a madman. “I will have the Judge at my fingertips again. But I shall not wait for his throat in the meantime, yes in the meantime I will practice on every neck in London that visits this shop. They can all rot in hell, so the great Jefferson will have company when I send him there."

 

* * *

 

  
  
Phillip was emptying his wardrobe of any clothes he thought Jefferson wouldn't notice were missing, should he suddenly decide to search the boy's room. The Judge rarely expressed interest in his belongings, but Phillip couldn't be too careful. He was shoving just a few shirts and breeches into his bag, thinking out how he could buy more clothes in France with Theo.

 _Theodosia_ .

All of his life felt like a blur rushing by him, as though he were on a train staring out the window, watching the events rapidly roll by as if happening to someone else. His life had never felt like it belonged to him. But hearing her promise to take him away, the tender was she had touched his face and arms, had put the train on a screeching halt, and Phillip had never felt more in the present.

He had nothing to compare his feelings to her too, as he had never been allowed friends or even to go to school with the other children, only a private tutor for Jefferson's ward. But regardless of his lack of socialization, Phillip was certain he was in love with her. When she smiled it felt like the sun was rising and he was safe. The only things that came to hurt him were in the night, and her presence was like perpetual daylight. She made him unafraid, even of Thomas.

"So, it's true." A voice said softly behind him and his hands stilled, nearly dropping his clothes to the floor. In the back of his mind he was reminded on an old legend he used to read about, _the monster that only comes when you think about it_ . He turned to face Thomas.

"Yes." His voice shook but his body did not, fists clenched at his sides. "I am leaving and you cannot stop me. I am eighteen years old now, not a child, and I want to see the world."

"Do you not love me?" His voice was cool and steady, betraying nothing, yet it still made Phillip's eyes burn with the promise of tears. He hated himself for his weakness. "Have I not treated you kindly all these years? Did I not take you in, raising you like my own, after your mother killed herself? Killed herself because of what a burden you were."

"That's not true." But the words barely came out a whisper, and Thomas took a step closer to him. An echo of how Theodosia had crossed the room just hours earlier.

"This is how you repay me? By running away with some vile sailor?"

"You are the vile one, not she." Phillip held his head high only to have it struck down by the back of Jefferson's hand, his slap stinging and humiliating.

"I will not tolerate this behavior. I have spared you from the beatings most disobedient children face, finding you too beautiful to stain with bruises, but no longer."

 

Phillip felt his heart begin to thump wildly in his chest and _god how long has Madison been in the doorway_ and his eyes flickered to the rod in the Beadle's hands. Thomas' words set off a tremor from under his skin, but Phillip willed the words to be drowned out by the melodious voice of Theo. _"As long as you want me, I will be yours."_ she had promised, as if a universe could ever exist where he did not want her.

The memory of the words filled him and stilled his shaking hands. Theo was his shield, if someone so special and good could love him, then what was fear?

"I am not afraid of you." He met Thomas' eyes and for the first time in his life, it was true.

Thomas raised an eyebrow, giving Phillip a long hard stare, before nodding to Madison. The Judge hesitated a moment in the doorway.

"Come morning you shall be sent away, Eacker’s Asylum is as good a place to learn obedience as any. You can come home when you learn to respect those who love you." He shut the door behind him and Madison smiled at the boy, smacking the rod against his palm.

"I have waited a long time for this day."

 

* * *

  
  
"Well, that just sounds lovely." John said after several moments, Alex grinning out the window. "But if you intend to be some sort of serial killer shaver, we have to figure out what we'll do with the bodies." Alex shrugged.

Even while Alex had been speaking, been enlightened by his great epiphany, John had undergone an epiphany of his own. It was a dark idea, yet the baker found a great twisted humor in it. A man sinking his teeth into his neighbor, watching the sick and ugly people of London who had tormented John for years finally getting a _taste_ of what being the have-not was like.

His lover was demented, beautifully so, but enough to accept John's plan? He didn't dare speak the notion outright.

"Not all of them will be as fat as Lee. We can shove them into the furnace."

"Oh yeah, I guess we could do that." John sat on the trunk in the corner of the room, kicking his feet. "It just....seems wasteful." His eyes flickered to Alex expectantly but the barber seemed to be hardly listening.

"Wasteful?"

"Well, throwing out all those bodies. All that.... _meat_ ." His emphasis on the last word was heavy, yet the barber did nothing but turn to face him from the window, mild confusion across his face. "I mean my pie shop downstairs, my _meat_ pie shop, hardly ever sees a customer. And there are certain places bodies just cannot be traced."

"Ah." Alex said quietly and John grinned devilishly. _Now you've got it._

"Meat nowadays is so expensive anyways. It takes a week's worth of savings to get enough to make maybe four or five pies. And that's only a couple pounds. Think how many pies an adult man could make."

"Laurens," Alex was now sporting a matching grin, taking the baker's hands in his excitedly. "You are the most brilliant, practical man I know. How I survived those sixteen years in prison without you I will never know." John's heart felt about to burst, and now that the wicked idea had taken hold it was only growing in his mind.

"See look Alex!" He pulled the man over to his shaving chair. "This room is directly above the basement. We built a chute of some kind-I can have Lafayette help out he's very handy-that goes directly from your chair, down, and the furnace is right there! I'll move the meat grinder and it's perfect." Alex grabbed him by the shirt collar and kissed him, still smiling as he crashed their lips together.

"John Laurens, you are fucking brilliant. Just listen." He pulled him to the window once more, his motions far less aggressive. "Listen to the sound of London. The sound pervading the air."

"What sound is it Mr. Hamilton?" The baker felt slightly dazed, gazing up at the man.

"It's man devouring man, my dear Laurens, and who are we to deny it in here?"

"We serve the finest pies in all the land here." John spun around Alex playfully, pantomiming holding out a pie. "Daddy didn't come home from the shavers last night? Console yourself with a meat pie."

"What flavor pie is it?" Alex was playing along, beaming like a child at Christmas.

"It's an accountant. Tough and stringy."

"Pretty dull tasting if you ask me. What does barber taste like?"

"Oh very melancholy." John teased and Alex smacked his arm. "Tastes as though it's been marinating in blood, hardly cooked at all."

"Well let's try the baker then." Alex pulled him close. "The flavor is strong. Almost overpowers the senses."

"Oh?" The two were now pressed against one another, John's gaze flickering between the man's eyes and his lips.

"Oh yes. A bit of a tart aftertaste though." John smirked and attempted to shove him but Alex caught his hands. "And what, my sweet, does judge taste like?"

"Vengeance." John murmured. "Although we recommend you order a side of our frozen cream. It's a dish best served cold." Alex snorted and smirked at the baker.

"We won't discriminate who we serve. And to whom we serve them."

"You'll just have to be careful to pick people who seem like the loner type. The lowborn that people wouldn't notice disappearing."

"Oh, my blade shall be at the throats of the highborn as well." The barber frowned. "The pecking order of the world has always been the rich taking advantage of the poor. Tearing them limb from limb."

"Now we can do the tearing, and they can do the pecking."

"Are you sure this will even be successful?" Alex's eyes glistened. "I mean, the pies would have to sell in order to be eaten, and I'm not sure you have a single edible creation in that kitchen."

"Why you little-" John lunged for him and Alex laughed, honest to god laughed, and caught the curly haired man in his arms with a tight grip.

"Careful little baker," his low, mischievous voice had John's heart forgetting how to beat. "Or I might just eat you up."

"I've heard I would taste rather tart actually." Alex shut him up with another hungry kiss, hands clutching at the fabric of the slightly taller man's shirt, dragging his face down to meet him.

"Let's start with Lee." Alex whispered against his lips, and pulled the baker with him towards the stair. "He should be enough meat for you to put together several batches."

"John Laurens' Meat Pie Shop is back in business." He clapped his hands together and the barber grinned, his eyes for once not looking distant and dreary.

He was here, in the present, and he was alive.

 

* * *

 

  
  
Theodosia ran, the heels of her boots clicking across the pavement, as she propelled herself forward like she never had before.

The sight of the judge, of the murderous way Mr. Hamilton had yelled at her, of the fear that Phillip would be harmed, had swarmed her vision and thoughts and all the sensibilities she had prided herself on. She had run last night out the doors in a blind panic, and had gotten horribly lost.

She had been running towards Phillip, running towards the piano music haunting her memory, and must have taken a wrong turn. She simply had looked up and not known the street she was on.

The girl had tried to backtrack, tried to find her way back to at least Fleet Street, but her heart was pounding so loud that every decision seemed to be the incorrect one. _It is embarrassing, for a sailor to lose her bearings_ , her own words, spoken to the Judge nights ago, came back to mock her. She had stood in the middle of an empty street, turning around and considering knocking down a door to implore the residents to direct her, please, to the home of the great judge Jefferson.

Finally, _finally_ , with tear streaks on her cheeks and sweat upon her brow from her non stop sprinting, she stumbled across the back door of the pie shop. _Fleet Street_ .

That French boy was in the back, watering some plants, humming to himself. He saw her and gave a little wave, his eyes beckoning her over. _Why is he awake so late at night? Why is he alone in the dark? Why is he watering some dead plants?_

The questions burned in her mind, but Theodosia knew that the Judge's house was only three blocks away, and she only had time to save one boy tonight.

She turned and ran down the adjacent street, feet seeming to fly beneath her now that her destination was set. The sun scorned her by beginning to peek over the horizon, the light of day an unwelcome sight over the smog in the air. It meant that she had been lost all the night long, while Phillip had been alone. Theodosia had always thought of the daylight as her friend, a reprieve from the storm clouds of the sea and the pirate threats of the night. But now the sailor had never hated the gray sky of morning more.

She stumbled along the street, catching sight of the dark mansion, only to find she was seconds too late. She was so close it felt like a sick joke, as she watched the Beadle shove Phillip into a black carriage, the boy struggling and fighting to no avail.

"Phillip!" She screamed and ran towards them, his face pressed against the back window as if he had heard her.

Her eyes clung to his, wide and afraid, before her view was abruptly cut off by a large figure moving in front of her.

"You let him go!" She was unafraid of Jefferson, voice loud enough to draw several faces peeking from behind curtains. "Set him free right now or I'll-I'll-"

"You'll what girl?!" His voice matched hers, his usual suave and calm facade gone in place of a hateful sneer. "Kill me?! **_Well here I stand!_ ** "

He held out his arms, as if daring her to attack him. Now people had stopped along the street to openly stare, and the horse drawn carriage holding her Phillip was galloping away out of reach with every passing second.

 _I am no murderer._  She knew it, Jefferson knew it. Any man she had killed, even that pirate a million years ago, had not been in cold blood. _I will not sink to your level, corrupt one._

She shoved past him, finding some pleasure in how her sudden burst caused him to stumble, and ran after the carriage.

But Theodosia had been running since the sun had first set, she was winded, and the horses were fast. Every corner the carriage turned she fell further and further behind. She rounded one street just in time to see it disappearing behind another, and she nearly collapsed from exhaustion, her breaths heavy and wheezing.

The face of Phillip was burning into her mind, searing her thoughts with the terror of his eyes. He was counting on her to save him. She had _promised_ him.

She took another step forward, and collapsed.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Come talk to me my tumblr is @angstypanfeminist


	8. Anything You Say

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Sorry this is so short, I was going to attach it to the next longer chapter but I decided to post it alone to assure ya'll I'm still alive  
> Next update will be quicker i promise!!!

John was dreaming.

  
In his dream, in his fantasy, he was living by the ocean on some tropical beach, in some wonderfully secluded island. The sun was shining, a soft yellow glow coloring his vision, and birds chirped sweetly, not in the annoying manner the ones outside his window often did.

  
And Alex was there with him. Maybe, in the back of his consciousness, Lafayette was there too, like a foster son. But the heart of the dream was his Alexander, his Benjamin, arms wrapped around the baker, toes buried in the warm sand.

  
In his dream no words were exchanged, only the contented sighs of two lovers, the waves lapping at the shore. They were intertwined on a little blanket, time moving lazily around them, passing over the boys in love. There was no one around to punish them for holding each other so tenderly, and no one around to remind Alex of the darkness he carried within him.

  
His head was resting on Alex's shoulder, and suddenly this detail made the dream feel terribly painful. Like a nightmare. This was all he ever wanted, so simple and pure. Yet it was the stuff of reverie.

  
Outside of his head, John began to toss and turn in his sheets. The barber beside him, also deep asleep, pulled the man close to still him. The effect was immediate, although John's dream still filled him with a knowing pain, even as he lay unaware. But perhaps the pain was from bruises, just beginning to form in small fingerprint shapes, purple with rings of green.

  
Lately his skin had become littered with such markings, imprints of claiming fingers and teeth. Alex was never gentle, never caressing, but John didn't mind. The barber clung to him with a savagery that might be painful, but it meant that the man wanted him. He wanted John, however he cared to express it was enough.

  
By the seaside Alex would be content to just hold him. He would forget everything but  the salt of the sea and John's gentle kiss. It would be enough.

  
That was the heart of his dream, somehow being enough.

 

* * *

 

  
  
Alex was also dreaming.

  
His dream, however, was less of a sweet wish and more of a memory, bitter and twisted by his subconscious mind.

  
He was dreaming of the first time he met Eliza. A beautiful day, the only day, the best day of his life. The dream would have been fantastic, only like Laurens', it was made sour by the agony of knowing how distant it was from reality.

  
He used to take walks in the park Saturday mornings. He couldn't recall why now-maybe he had liked the feel of the sun. Maybe he wanted to rise early and hear the birds. But it was meaningless in his dream, all that mattered was what a particular morning walk brought to him.

  
He had glimpsed her across a little duck pond, arm in arm with a tall dark girl, laughing like the world was her oyster.

  
He had never seen anything so beautiful.

  
Alex must have stopped dead in his tracks to stare at her, the girl with dark hair and a melodious giggle, and for a moment she happened to glance his way. Their eyes met only for an instant, less than a heartbeat, but it was enough.

  
Saturday morning suddenly became every morning, the man had always had obsessive tendencies. She was always there, the laughing lady in green. Sometimes reading alone, sometimes speaking with the tall girl. Always a smile tugging at her lips. Always Alex watching from afar, afraid to even say hello and shatter this perfect picture.

  
He had eventually summoned the courage to seek her out, and with his heart in his stomach he had taken a seat on the wooden bench beside her.

  
"Beautiful day isn't it ma'am?"

  
"Indeed sir." He was drowning in her eyes and he was perfectly fine with it.

  
"I beg your pardon for my boldness but, beautiful as the morning is, you are far more so." A smile, and he was completely underwater.

  
But in his dream he never could get his feet to move forward. He could only watch, like a predator through the trees or an invisible phantom, as she sat there blissfully alone.

  
The dream shifted, almost imperceptibly so, but he felt it nonetheless. As if a cloud had drifted over the sun, the ground suddenly darken and chilling.

  
Instead of he, Alex watched as Judge Jefferson appeared. He took the seat beside her, stepping into Alex's role, and presented Eliza with a dark flower.

  
She accepted it and took his arm, but did not smile.

  
His Eliza did not smile. And as the two walked off, fingers intertwined, she looked back at Alex. Her eyes were wide and beautiful and immeasurably sad.

  
Alex awoke with a sharp breath and a jolt of his entire body, the motion waking his companion.  
"John." He breathed, panting. It was all he could manage to say, body cold with sweat, as the man beside him began to stir. "John."

  
"I'm here." Arms reached towards the barber, heavy from swimming the wide ocean currents. "I'm here."

  
"Don't speak." He pulled the baker to him tightly, trying to grip reality and secure his place in it through the warm and compliant response.

 

* * *

 

  
  
_Dearest Father,_

 _  
_ _I would love nothing more than to fill pages and pages of my letter to you with the sweet stories of London, and all the adventures I have had across the ocean, and how I have missed you every hour of every day._

  
_However urgency forces my hand, and I must, to my shame, beg your help and aid._

 _  
In my last letter I mentioned to you a friend I had made, the boy with the piano. Well, I have uncovered ghastly secrets about his life, and he was being held prisoner by a horrendous and vile vulture of the law. The scorn with which the man treated me has made me question the goodness of man, truly. As has the sadness in Phillip-my now dear friend-'s eyes_.

 _  
_ _I had resolved to steal him away and arrive at your door, like a beggar or prodigal son, with him in tow. I had no alternative, he was slowly being smothered by the hateful man. And I have never felt such care towards another person. Surely you understand._

 _  
_ _But that was before the Judge found out about our little scheme. Upon discovering our plan to escape he had Phillip sent away! I know not where, and I know not for how long. But when I find him, and I will, I intend to prepare you for my arrival. I am coming home father, and I shall not be doing so until I find my companion. I know it is much to ask, that you provide lodging for a daughter you have not seen in years and a boy you know nothing of, but I trust you won't turn us away when the time comes. I write this letter as quickly as I can, as I don't know that I will have time to await your reply._

 _  
_ _Every night, I walk the streets of London. I take every unfamiliar turn I can, I walk every ominous street and road. In the moonlight each evening, I search for Phillip. I probably look like a woman gone mad, calling out his name into the darkness. But I will find him. I promised him that I would save him, father, and I do not break oaths._

 _  
_ _Whether tomorrow night or a month from now, the instant we are reunited I will set sail for France and your home. I pray you will be there waiting, with open arms._

_  
Please father, I need you to be. For your fearless daughter has never been so afraid._

_  
_ _Your humble and pleading child,_

 _  
_ _Theodosia Burr_


	9. Not While I'm Around

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I <3 angst

"Come one come all! _Venir pendant que vous le pouvez_! Come try Mr. Laurens' famous Meat Pies!!"

  
The French boy somehow managed to make scrappy, second hand clothing look elegant as he stood just outside the open door of the shop. His hair was slicked back becomingly, and the charming grin he shared with every customer coming through the door made men and women alike flush. Lafayette possessed the ability to make everyone he came into contact with feel as though they were the center of the universe, the only person in the world.

  
_He's a flirtatious little bastard, but the perfect salesman._ John lifted yet another tray of pies from the oven, the small horde of guests giving a cheer of approval. It seemed that perhaps John's cooking wasn't as atrocious as he thought, and all he'd truly needed was meat.

  
"Fresh meat pies! _Bonjour belle, les soins pour une tarte_?" The woman clearly didn't understand Laf but her cheeks turned pink all the same, and when he kissed her hand John could practically see the sales climbing upward.

  
"Oh I..I suppose I am a bit hungry."

  
John wiped the sweat from his brow and set about shoving a couple more trays into the oven. It was a constant battle of having more bodies to chop up than there were customers, and having more customers than there were people in London.

  
Of course, he and Alex had to be careful. They watched the people coming in for a shave, chose the ones with the aura of an outsider. Avoided those with the signs of children, people who might miss them and come poking about. Alex hadn't been too worried, of course.

  
"If anyone sticks their nose where it doesn't belong I'll blood their throat." He'd shrugged. "Simple as that Laurens."

  
"Love, we can't afford to raise suspicion." John adored that he was slightly taller, able to comfortably rest his chin on the barber's head with arms wrapped around him. Alex didn't lean into the touch nor shrug him off. Another odd little balance John maintained. "If we catch the Beadle's notice, even slightly so, they might start to pay attention to your origins. You don't look so different, really. Shorter hair and plumper cheeks and anyone could spot Benjamin a mile away."

  
"I told you not to speak that name to me." He'd jerked away, venom in his tone, but had sighed. "Alright, you're more perceptive than I. I'll let you decide who lives and who dies. Give me some sort of signal."

  
"I'll offer to take the coat of the ones you can go ahead and slice."

  
He'd kissed the man's cheek and that had been that. John had been terrified that he would turn Alex's victims into his pies and still no one could come, creating an even larger mess of flesh to hide, but the smell of warm food and Lafayette's enchantingly sing-song voice had brought people flocking on the first batch.

  
"More pies monsieur Laurens?" The boy approached him now, shifting the treats onto plates and grabbing a pitcher of ale.

  
"Thank you love. My little makeshift waiter." He ruffled the boy's hair fondly and Laf fixed him with the sultry look the baker knew well.

  
" _Mon beau_ ," He leaned against the countertop in what John thought he must imagine was a seductive manner, long limbs more gawky than graceful. "I am young, but I am very mature for my age."

  
"That's why I let you serve alcohol. Run along." Lafayette ran about fulfilling the hungry demands of the shop with his winks and his dazzling, and Laurens simply shook his head.

  
The boy was sweet and his charming tendencies endeared him to John. But it had been a long time before anybody had flirted with the baker, let alone openly, and it stirred a twinge of bitterness he hadn't know was inside him. _Why can Alex not look at me like that?_ The unwelcome thought had crept in, cold as ice, and planted roots.

  
John liked to fancy that he was rubbing off on Alex, the man's stone exterior softening, but perhaps he was in over his head. Perhaps it was the other man wielding the influence, hardening the cheerful baker.

  
"Last batch of the day, sorry loves." John announced and Laf flipped over the "open" sign on the door, much to the dismay of the line stretching down the cobblestone street.

  
It had become almost standard to have to turn people away, and John would be lying if he claimed it wasn't doing wonders for his ego.

  
"People really do enjoy sinking their teeth into their neighbors." Alex observed later that night, his upstairs room completely white with the moonlight.

  
John was leaned back in the chair, eyes closed contentedly, as his lover shaved him. He hummed his agreement as the barber dragged the blade slowly across his jugular, the air cool against his damp skin. There was silence, peaceful stillness, as Alex finished up, taking his time to smooth John's jaw. After all, it would be pressed against his thighs later, he wanted no stubble scraping him.

  
"Aren't you afraid?" The barber asked softly, dark blade almost shimmering in his hand to emphasize the question.

  
"Should I be?" John lazily opened an eye. "I should think that if you were going to slit my throat you wouldn't bother shaving it so cleanly first. Or giving me a warning."

  
"And if I did, would you fight back Laurens?" Alex was clearly teasing but his tone felt solemn. The razor kissed the bakers skin, swiping at the base of his neck where Alex's hand held him in place.

  
"You know the answer Alex." John felt his words catch and the barber surprised him by pressing his lips softly to the man's forehead.

  
"I do."

  
John closed his eyes, thinking Alex might linger, but he pulled away and set about cleaning his blades.

  
John wiped his face with a towel and sat up to look at his barber, the man's dark eyes almost silver with the luminous full moon shining right above them. Silver and unreadable.

  
"Business is very successful now."

  
"Aye."

  
"We're making a lot of money. Everything is...perfect." He watched Alex carefully for a reaction, he had learned the warning signs quite well. But Alex was only staring back at him, so John continued, daring to take the man's hand in his own. "I was thinking love, with everything going so well, that maybe...we don't have to stay here anymore." His words started pouring out faster and faster. "We have enough money, with the pies selling so well, that we could go anywhere. We could live together by the seaside somewhere sunny. We can leave behind the shadows of London."

  
Alex leaned down to kiss John but it felt like he was shutting him up. Shutting him down.

  
"You agree that things are going well?" John asked, not sure why he felt tears pricking his eyes. He had grown accustomed to callousness, not tenderness.

  
"Yes love."

  
"And do you...think of her anymore?"

  
The air grew still enough to hear them both breathing softly, a distant hum of the furnace below, John's heart thumping against his ribcage.

  
When the barber didn't answer after a pause that felt eternal, John stood up and wrapped his arms around him, searching his face for emotion.

  
"See?" He spoke in a whisper. "You truly don't even think about her anymore. Maybe it's time to leave ghosts behind for....for something new."

  
"Monsieurs." The voice from the doorway was heavy and the two pulled apart. Lafayette looked at Alex with narrowed eyes. _He saw._ "The girl is here to see you again. The pretty one."

  
"Send her in." Alex's words sounded thick and he didn't dismiss John nor fully step away from him as the sailor girl entered the room.

  
She looked frightful, and that was being kind. Her hair was a wild mess behind her, her jacket torn and her eyes large and anxious. The semi-calm demeanor of her last visit was completely dissolved.

  
"Did you get in a fight with a thorn bush?" John spluttered but she didn't acknowledge him, gaze fixed on Alex.

  
"I found him. The boy-Phillip."

  
"Oh?" Alex betrayed nothing to the casual observer but John recognized the way his spine straightened slightly, the flash in his eyes. John could kill this girl for showing up here, on this night, throwing these remnants of the past in the barber's face. _I reached him, I felt it, and now she arrives and ruins it all._

  
"They have him locked up in an asylum. I saw the carriage they took him in out front. It's an awful place, with not a single window."

  
"And how do you intend to save him?" John couldn't keep the contempt from his tone.

  
"I....I don't know." Theodosia looked at Alex helplessly and Lafayette placed a gentle hand on her shoulder.

  
" _Madame_ , I know the place you speak of. They sell the hair of the patients there. My former employer frequented it to fashion wigs."

  
"My god." She breathed, horror in her young eyes.

  
"All you have to do is make pretense as a wig shop owner. Describe the hair of your beloved to the man up front and he will take you to him."

  
"You're sure that will work?"

  
" _Oui madame_ , I used to accompany Lee on his visits. Stand tall and confident, and ask for his exact hair color-"

  
"Sandy brown. And it's curly, in little ringlets." She responded fast, nodding eagerly to herself. Watching her the word “adaptable” fluttered through John’s mind but he dismissed the observation quickly. Alex had a soft spot for her, and that was enough to raise John’s suspicions and keep his interest guarded.

  
"You'll need a gun." Alex intervened, rushing to his trunk and pulling out a small revolver. He handed it to her, barrel facing him, and John cringed at the image.

  
"Th-thank you. I'll go tonight."

  
"Tomorrow night." Alex was pacing excitedly. "If you still intend to hide him here it must be tomorrow night. I must prepare certain things."

  
"I can use the time to get my crew ready, I suppose." She sounded reluctant to wait but Alex gestured towards Lafayette.

  
"Show her the door boy, it's getting late."

  
"Of course, _sir_ ." His English sounded nearly perfect, and it might have just been the accent but John could've sworn there was malice in his words. "I can teach you what to say on the way out _Madame_."

  
"Thank you so much Mr. Hamilton! You won't regret it, if there's ever anyway I can repay you-"

  
"I'll keep that in mind." Alex was scribbling a letter furiously, on his knees beside the trunk, and waved her away again without looking up.

  
Lafayette and Theodosia slowly descended the stairs and John hesitated instead of following, Alex having clearly forgotten the baker was there.

  
"Alex." He said softly, and when the barber looked up his eyes were far, far away. Gaze fixated on a different timeline, one where John's presence was meaningless. "Alex."

  
The baker repeated himself in a broken tone, crossing the room and sinking to the floor to kneel beside Alex, taking both his hands and the pen the man was clutching into his own.

  
"Let the dead rest in their graves Alexander, please. We are among the living."

  
"You are John." Alex smiled, as if his words were intended to be humorous, but they left a dry taste in the bakers mouth. John nodded.

  
"Come to bed when you're done love." The man hummed his compliance and returned to writing, his hands slipping free.

  
John expected the shop to be empty when he went downstairs, in fact he was so accustomed to it being dark and bare after hours that he failed to notice Lafayette  standing at the counter, hands rubbing together.

  
"Monsieur Laurens." The kind voice made him jump in surprise, yanking him out of his all consuming thoughts of Alex. " _Est-ce que tu vas bien_? You look so melancholy."

  
"Just tired Laf," he smiled weakly but the boy didn't return it, instead crossing the room and fixing John with a candid stare.

  
"Monsieur Laurens...John," Laf fidgeted nervously and averted his eyes, shoving his hands into his pockets. John tucked a finger under his chin, tilting his head so they once again locked eyes.

  
"Lafayette what's the matter?"

  
"You...you took me in when you didn't have to." He burst out, french laden voice echoing across the room. "You protected me, and have given me a home here. And I am so grateful to you."

  
"You're welcome Lafayette, you know I adore you." He gave him a curious look and an affectionate pat, but the boy continued to look distressed.

  
"Monsieur Laurens-"

  
"John."

  
"John." A deep breath, a pause. "You _saved_ me...and I would do anything to protect you as you have done for me." John gave a nervous little laugh.

  
"What makes you say that, love?"

  
"I know he is your friend but...I do not trust Monsieur Alex." His eyes grew dark as John ceased to breathe. "I like to spend time out in the garden at night. And I have seen him...acting _méfiant_. Suspiciously."

  
"Acting suspicious." John kept his tone dubious, eyes flickering to the staircase with genuine fear. "Lafayette don't be silly, you've had too much ale."

  
"It's unnatural for a grown man to be lurking about at night." He was getting worked up now, volume rising. _Dear God please don't let Alex overhear._ "And haven't you noticed?! People go in for haircuts and never come down again. It's almost as if-"

  
"Lafayette." John stepped close to him, hands coming to rest on the boy's shoulders. His dear Lafayette. "I know Alex better than you, I'm telling you that you have nothing to fear." The boy leaned in to his touch.

  
"I am not afraid for me _mon cher ami_ . I am afraid for _you_." Lafayette looked at John with all the stars in his eyes, full of the complete and utter trust of youth. "You think he is your friend, but men like that have no friends. And if anything happened to you I would never forgive myself."

  
"You are my responsibility, not the other way around." John could barely bring his voice to a whisper, touched by the genuineness of the boy.

  
"Come away with me." Laf clutched at John's arms imploringly. "Theodosia promised to take me with her to France. It is my home, and you could find happiness there. Men like Mr. Hamilton carry hate like a cloud wherever they go. Don't you want to feel the sun Monsieur Laurens?"

  
"Lafayette-" John felt weak as he spoke but the boy cut him off, leaning forward on his tiptoes and pressing his mouth to John's.

  
It was endearingly clumsy and unrehearsed, the barest touch of lips. John moved step backwards almost instantly but Lafayette's hand had reached up to hold the back of his neck holding him insistently. The young boy melted against him, leaving almost no room for John to pull back and take a breath.

  
"Lafayette."

  
_" Je suis jeune, mais je tiens à toi grandement._ " His dark eyes remained fixed on John's lips as he murmured in French. " _Je ne voudrais pas remplir vos yeux avec une telle tristesse._ "

  
"We can talk about this in the morning." John heard his words as if from a distant room, a spirit detached from his body. "I'll think about what you have said tonight but I....I want to be alone right now. Out here. Would you mind sleeping in the basement? Just for the night?"

  
"Anything for you Monsieur." He moved to kiss John again but the baker turned his head so the boys lips instead caressed his cheek, biting back a small cry at Lafayette's words.

  
"Come."

  
He lead him down to the basement, the room completely dark, save the dim furnace, and devoid of windows. _Like the asylum_.

  
John handed him a blanket and Lafayette entered the tomb-like place without complaint, smiling up at John even as the baker shut the door behind him, sealing the boy in, the quiet click of the lock like a knife into the baker's heart.

  
John leaned back against the doorway and covered his mouth with his hand, a ghost of the naive child's lips and a muffle to his trembling, violent sobs.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Venir pendant que vous le pouvez=Come while you can  
> Bonjour belle, les soins pour une tarte=Hello beautiful, care for a pie?  
> méfiant=suspicious  
> mon cher ami=my dear friend  
> Je suis jeune, mais je tiens à toi grandement. =I am young but I care for you greatly.  
> Je ne voudrais pas remplir vos yeux avec une telle tristesse.= I would not fill your eyes with such sadness.
> 
> Thank you guys so much for commenting and the kudos, I thrive on kind words


	10. Life Is For The Alive

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> :')  
> So this is the finale, thank you all for reading!!!

"Yes sir. Dark sandy brown, preferably curled."

  
"And the longer the better." Nathanael chimed in, standing steady and tall beside her.

  
It felt good to have the man at her side again, like this were another wonderful sea adventure. But it was not, there was not gold or pride at stake, there was a sweet boy who has endured endless suffering. Theodosia had been a frantic mess ever since he was taken, reduced to a child by that foul judge.

  
"Theodosia." Catherine had stopped her on the stair one night, tears in her eyes. "Why do you have to look for him at night? Why for so many hours? Is it worth risking your health over?" _Is it worth losing your mind over?_

  
"Cat," Theo had used her captain voice, full of confidence and bravado. One could never let their crew know they were afraid, it was the leader's job to show courage, even in the face of death and hopelessness. "At night the streets are empty, I am free to look over every nook and cranny as I please without raising suspicion." _Without letting the judge see._ "And as for why it takes so long, he is my friend. Would you want me to give up were it you imprisoned God knows where?"

  
And it had truly paid off. The night Theo had found him, her willpower felt close to death. It had been two weeks of this endless searching, longer than she had known him for. She could almost forget the exact color of his eyes, the way his lips had felt. But the piano music surged strong in her veins, the song he had written _for her_ . Her feet moved with purpose, fighting the weariness. Fighting the dread, and the chanting in her head of _it's too late, it's too late._

  
She saw it several miles outside of town; the black carriage. It haunted her memories, his face pressed up against the glass in a silent plea, and there was no mistaking that this was that same vessel.

  
She almost cried out with joy when she saw it but forced herself to remain composed. _This is just the beginning Theodosia, keep it together._

 _  
_ The carriage was just inside a large gate, surrounding a long white building without any Windows. She shuddered, there was something transparently _wrong_ about this place. As if it had an aura of evil. _That's childish Theo, a place can't be evil, people are._

  
She stepped closer, cautious in case of guard or vicious dogs, but the world was quiet save for her footsteps crunching the leaves. She didn't have to come close at all to make out the sign slung over the gate.

  
**Gallagher's Private Asylum**

  
She had ran straight to Fleet Street.

  
"Yes I have several patients possessing such hair that you will find to your liking." The man wall composed entirely of sharp angles, elbows and hunches and narrow eyes.

  
"Let's see it then." Anger kept her calm, the distant medley in her mind stilling her hands from shooting the lecherous man in the leg.

  
The two followed him down a long hallway, and Nathanael reached over and gave her shoulder a slight squeeze. Moaning began to permeate the air the further down they went, and Theo was certain had she been alone she would have collapsed at the sound of it.

  
_Maybe once Phillip is free it would be better if we didn't go sailing. Were he ever in danger again I would be rendered an utterly useless captain_.

  
The man unlocked one of the doors near the end and swung it open brutally, holding the lantern out in front of him like a weapon. Theo and Nathanael followed him into the dark area, it's many inhabitants scurrying to press against the wall, out of the circle of light last by the lantern and the open door.

  
"We have lots of fine curly brown hair in here. Like this one." He grabbed the arm of a girl, Theo's age, with sickly pale skin and dead eyes. Her hair had a slight wave to it, but looked almost gray.  
"Not curly enough." Theo was glad Nathanael spoke, she could bring herself to even swallow as her eyes scanned the room.

  
The sea of faces all blended together, the tiny space a writhing mass of bodies clad in pale cloaks hiding in the darkness. She turned and saw a figure sitting in the corner, head down, long hair shielding their face. Long, curly, dark brown hair.

  
Theo took a step forward instinctively but a bony hand stopped her.

  
"Careful miss, there are mental patients after all. They can be violent. See someone you like?"

  
She raised her hand, like in a dream, and pointed to the figure sitting down. The man grabbed their arm harshly, make Theo feel murderous, and yanked the figure to their feet, holding the lantern beside their head.

  
When their eyes met, hazel and brown, musician and sailor, she openly cried out. The green eyes across the room were searching her, in disbelief, but she watched the embers behind them slowly begin to stir.

  
"I'll take that one." The man pulled out a knife to place against Phillip's scalp, oblivious to the barrel of the gun aimed at him. "No not his hair, I'll take _him_."

  
"What are you-" the man stopped, seeing Theo holding the gun and Nathanael strong and imposing beside her. He released Phillip's arm, eyes fearful, and Theo practically threw the gun to her first mate, reaching for the boy.

  
"We'll be borrowing these, if you don't mind." Nathanael grabbed the keys and they stumbled out of the room, locking the door behind them, the man's screeches audible and full of agony. It was likely his patients were tearing him limb from limb.

  
"Phillip." She had her arms around him, having to half drag him out, and now she knelt beside him, holding his face in her hands like the most precious treasure ever uncovered.

  
"You found me." He was weeping, hands reaching up to touch her face as if afraid she would fade away. "I knew you would Theo. I knew you would."

  
She hugged him to her, unembarrassed to cry openly into his hair. She knew Nathanael had never seen her like this, she had never seen herself like this. But in all of her travels she had never felt this for another person. She clutched him to her tightly, feeling for the first time in weeks that her body was complete again. That she was a whole human, instead of a shadow. 

  
"Captain," Nathanael's voice was reluctant. "We have to leave now if we want to escape unmolested." She nodded.

  
"Come Phillip. Nathanael's carriage is out front. We're leaving for France. Tonight."

  
"Tonight?" His eyes were pools of hope, Theo wanted to swim in them for the rest of her lifetime.

  
"Yes but we must hurry, last time I wanted to wait and I lost you. That will not happen again."

  
She dragged him to his feet and they ran, clutching at one another's arms and clothing, refusing to let go even as they stumbled. Nathanael lead them back out the front gates, pistol out in front and ready to fire. They climbed into the carriage without any guards pursuing them, and Nathanael took the reins of the horse and sent it into gallop, the two breathing heavily inside the warm exterior behind him.

  
"We will hide you at my friend's house, on Fleet Street." She explained to Phillip as he intertwined their hands, planting small kisses along her fingers and palm. "I don't want to risk the Judge somehow hearing of this and looking for you at Nathanael's house. I will prepare my ship and crew and then return for you at dawn's first light. We will only be apart for a few hours."

  
"And then never again."

  
"And then never again." She repeated, looking at his face and memorizing every freckle.

  
"Theodosia before I met you, it was like I was in a dark room with only a candle to see." He held her hands and gazed at her intensely. "The candle was the only light I had ever known, I thought it was all there was. But then I met you and, _God_ , it was like seeing the sun for the first time. You were all the light. You are _everything_."

  
"Phillip." She choked on her words and instead pulled him into a gentle but urgent kiss. _I will never let go again. This is everything I have ever been searching for out on the sea._ **_He_ ** _is everything._

 _  
_ "Marry me Theodosia." He breathed against her lips, eyes still closed, his breath warm on her face.

  
"Aye." Her response required no thinking. "A thousand times over, aye."

  
She reunited their lips until the carriage rolled to a stop, the horses hooves clicking softly against the pavement of Fleet Street.

  
"Come." She pulled him by the hand, nodding at Nathanael to wait, and led him inside the small bakery.

  
It was empty, even the French boy who slept here was nowhere to be seen. Theo was of a one track mind as she led Phillip up the stairs. They must all be sleeping, that was even better. They could slip in and out as if never here, no trouble to Mr. Hamilton at all. Theo resolved to write to him the second she was home in France, expressing her deep gratitude and maybe sending some money. It was impossible to refuse charity by mail.

  
The upstairs room was bare, save for the shaving chair, a table of razors, and a trunk in the corner of the room.

  
"Ah, here." She opened the trunk and found it mostly empty, turning to Phillip. "You can hide in here until I return."

  
"Please hurry." He sounded younger than his years. "I have come to fear the dark."

  
She kissed him again as he lowered himself into the trunk, lingering longer than she could afford to. _There'll be time for this later Theo_.

  
"I'll be back for you before you can blink Phillip. We can be married by the sea, if you like."

  
"My sailor." He murmured and she smiled at him, everything good in the world, and lowered the lid of the trunk.

 

* * *

 

  
  
"I came as soon as I received your letter." The Judge met Alex a couple blocks down from Fleet Street, looking as wild and unfocused as the barber had ever seen the man. "You're sure the sailor intends to bring him to you?"

  
"She already has sir, come at once." They marched down the streets, both of their steps heavy with purpose. Everything the two men desired waiting inside a pie shop. "She attempted to steal him away but your ward resisted her. Very contrite. He only wants to see _you_ , he says. Begs your forgiveness."

  
"Then it shall be his. My Phillip." The man's voice was heavy and the barber led him up the stairs, taking them two at a time.

  
"He is just in my back room, Your Honor. Might I first offer a shave?" He motioned to his chair, a charming grin plastered across his face. "You will have the rest of your life with the boy, my lord. Look presentable for the lad and he will forget any wrong you have ever caused him. And it is the least I can do."

  
"Yes." Jefferson murmured, moving like a dream-walker towards his doom. "A shave, then the rest of my life."

  
"My absolute pleasure Your Honor." It would have sounded like a snarl had the man not been smiling, and he quickly lathered the man's face and neck with shaving cream. "It's only a shame you couldn't have his mother alive with you, you could've enjoyed both."

  
"What?" The man opened an eye, speech slow, lost in his fantasy.

  
"It's so nice to meet a fellow spirit such as yourself, Judge Jefferson." His soothing words were laced with venom. "Or at least, one with the same taste in women."

  
"What?!" Both eyes slid open now, looking at Alex but refusing to see.

  
"Oh I suppose you don't recognize me, a life sentence in prison can change a man. Or perhaps, you never even learned my face to begin with." He clutched at his razor, vision swimming with red, his hatred boiling to the surface. "You don't need to know the face of a lowly barber to steal his life from him, do you?"

  
"Benjamin Barker." Jefferson gasped and Alex raised his arm, moving quickly with his razor to slash at the man's throat with a cry of rage.

  
But the Judge awoke from his dazed stupor and caught the man's wrist, mere inches from his throat.

  
"You vile demon!" Alex screeched, twisting and fighting to press his hand down further, the blade almost touching Jefferson's skin. "You will not have my son as you had my Eliza!"

  
"Alex!" The noise brought John running to the stair and the barber's eyes flickered upwards for an instant, but it was enough.

  
The Judge quickly turned his hand and wrestled the blade away from Alex, leaping backwards out of the chair and holding it out in front of him like a feral animal. The barber merely laughed, a hoarse and angry sound, picking up another of his razors.

  
"Judgement day is here for you, Thomas. And it is _I_ who now control your fate."

  
"No," Jefferson growled and moved impossibly fast to grab at the baker, eliciting a squeal of fear from John, as he held the man to his chest and pressed the razor to his throat. "Take a step closer and I'll slice your lover's pretty little throat."

  
Alex moved closer still, Jefferson pressed against the wall with now nowhere left to go. The barber moved between him and the doorway as a drop of crimson blood appeared on John's throat where the judge was beginning to apply pressure.

  
"You fool," Alex grinned at him, razor fully unsheathed in his hand. "You have already taken everything I love from me. You cannot hurt me. Slit his throat, I care not. I will still have yours."

  
Jefferson's eyes grew large with genuine terror, and Alex thought it was the most beautiful sight in the world. He let the man splutter in disbelief for a second longer before springing forward, as he could have at any time, and swiping his blade across the Judge's throat with the speed he was famous for.

  
The Judge, the most powerful man in London, collapsed and John fell gasping to the floor. Alex watched Jefferson's body twitch and choke as the floor stained red with his wicked blood, pooling around the barber’s feet.

  
Alex was sharply in the present, was watching this happen with the most rapture and attention he had experienced since his return to London. His quest was complete. The demons silent. His ghosts were gone.  
  
"You...you would've let him kill me." John was looking at him with an expression the man had never held before. Alex took a step towards him, extending the hand free of the razor to held him up, but his baker jerked away.

  
"Laurens, I knew he wouldn't kill you. I was trying to scare him."

  
"How could you know that?!" John was standing now, looking on the brim of tears, and Alex almost felt a pang of something like regret. He hadn't intended the baker to learn such a cruel lesson, not from him. " _How could you know that?!_ "

 

  
Alex was silent, letting his eyes once again land on Jefferson's silent body instead of the shattered look in his lover's eyes.

  
"You gambled with my life. And you know something?" John asked, inhaling deeply. "You've never even told me you love me."

  
"Of course I do." Alex muttered but John kept speaking.

  
"I was willing to let Lafayette, a child, die for you. When you would've let Jefferson kill me....without a single regret."

  
"That's not true I-"

  
"You hardly even call me John." His voice was cracking now, Alex didn't want to watch this man cry. "Unless we're fucking maybe. But otherwise it's my last name, so informal."

  
"John." Alex stepped towards him. "It's over now. Jefferson is dead. We can live by the sea, like you wanted. It's all over."

  
"It is all over." John whispered, and turned to walk down the stairs.

  
Alex suppressed an exasperated moan and followed him. The man was running for the basement.

  
"Lafayette! Lafayette are you in there?" He was shouting into the darkness, running frantically around the room. "Where are you? I'm sorry."

  
"As am I." Alex said softly to himself, before closing and locking the basement door once more.

  
He would have to deal with them later. The boy would have to die, John had explained to him how the clever little foreigner had started to catch on. But the baker would come around. Alex would persuade him, he’d always had the baker wrapped neatly around his finger. He was hardly worried, if anything he was mildly angry. How dare Laurens so selfishly ruin the greatest night of Alex's life with cries of romance? Alex had done what he'd had to do, as he always did.

  
When he returned up the stairs to shove the Judge's body down the chute he stopped cold.  A figure in a white robe was leaning over it, just staring coldly down at the corpse. Alex took a step closer and the boy-it was a young boy-looked up at him. He had wide eyes, big enough to drown in.

  
"How did you get in here boy?" Alex fingered the razor in his palm, annoyance coloring his tone. First the trouble with Laurens, now this.

  
"You killed him, he's dead." He sounded disbelieving but strangely...giddy. Alex thought he clothes looked like that of some medical patient. Some lunatic.

  
"If you knew what was good for you, boy, you'd leave this place now."

  
"Hey," the kid took a foolish step closer, the first light of dawn beginning to color the room. A soft pink. "Don't I know you from somewhere?"

  
Alex swung his razor by instinct, a secondary reaction, and watched the boy stare at him with surprise as he pale neck bled red, staining his gown and delicate hands, musician’s hands, that reached up to stop it.

  
He collapsed to the ground silently, no moaning or sickening gagging sounds, and Alex mused that he looked like a fallen angel. All clad in white.

 

 _An innocent._ He shook the thought away, no one in this world was innocent.

 

He dragged the Judge's body behind the chair, pulling a lever and sending it down to the basement. In the back of his mind he hoped John wasn't standing beneath the chute, lest it crush the man.

  
The pale light of morning now filled the room and Alex wiped his hands off on his pants just as a light footstep ascended the stair.

  
"Theodosia." He turned to see her. "You no longer need to worry about the Judge. I have-"

  
But her gaze wasn't fixed on him, indeed she seemed not to hear or see him at all. Instead she released the most pained, mournful scream Alex had heard in his lifetime. He knew the sound well, it was the exact one his heart had made the day the Judge tore him from Eliza.

  
"Phillip!" She screamed and fell to the ground beside him, pulling his limp body to her chest, openly sobbing and touching his face. Searching for life. "No no no, my Phillip."

  
Her words turned Alex's blood cold. _She said Phillip. No_. The razor fell from his hand with a thud, the only sound apart from the girl's heavy cries.

  
"I promised him, I promised him I would save him." She wasn't speaking to Alex. Theodosia cradled the boy in her arms, her tears wetting his face even as she kissed it. "We were so close. God we were so close. Phillip, I never should have left your side. I never even told you that I love you."

  
"Captain Theo, we must go now. The Beadle is looking for you and-" A tall, brawny man stopped in the doorway. Surveying the scene. " _Theo_."

  
"We were to be married Nathanael. He would've married me."

  
"Theodosia." The man knelt beside her, it seemed he was fighting back tears himself. "I’m so sorry. I'm so sorry, but we have to go. The asylum workers are after us. The Beadle is after us."

  
"Let them come." She cried out hoarsely. "Let them kill me. I don't deserve to live, I _promised_ him." She moved the hair from the boy's face, tracing her hand down his cheek. "My Phillip. I am so sorry. I'm so, so sorry."

  
"I won't let you do this Theo." He dragged her to her feet and she shrieked and fought him, refusing to release her hold on the boy.

 

“No! No, there is no point without him! Let them kill me Nate, _let them kill me_!” She pounded fruitlessly against his chest, the girl weak with tears, and seemed to finally see Alex. Registering the literal blood on his hands.

  
"You?" she breathed. "You. You who pretended to be my friend."

  
"I didn't know." Alex's voice was almost inaudible, swallowing down emotions he no longer knew he possessed. "I didn't-"

  
"You warned me about the cruelty of men!" She pointed at him, finger aimed with accusation, her eyes slicing through his soul like daggers. Or shaving blades. "But it is _you_ who is cruel! You have taken from me the only thing that matters!! _I wish you had drowned!_ " She lunged for him but the man caught her, kicking and screaming. "Let me kill him! Let me kill him!"

  
The man practically dragged her down the stairs and Alex took her place beside the body, kneeling gently and brushing his hair from his face.

  
"My son." His whispered, quiet tears sneaking down his cheeks. "My son."

 

* * *

 

  
  
"Help us!! Please!! _Help!_ " Lafayette pounded against the basement door, his tiny fists punctuated by his sobs.

  
"It's useless." John muttered, sitting back pressed against the wall. "There is no one out there to hear."

  
" _Je ne vais pas mourir aujourd'hui_. We will escape Monsieur Laurens!! Help us! Help-"

 

  
The boy stumbled forward as the door swung open, and the baker looked up with hope. But it was a man they didn't recognize. The sailor girl was cradled in his arms, making small incoherent noises.

  
" _Madame_ Theodosia." Lafayette breathed and the man motioned his head towards the door.

  
"Come friends, escape this evil place with us to France. We're leaving now for the harbor. No charge." He turned to leave and Lafayette followed instantly, pausing only when he realized John was not behind him.

  
The baker felt the boy crouch down beside him from where he had not stirred in the basement, felt hands that did not belong to Alex stroking his face.

  
" _Mon cher ami_ , I am begging you, come with us. Come with _me_."

  
"I cannot Lafayette." John couldn't even look at him. "I belong here." _With Alex._

  
"Oui. I cannot force you. Though I wish I could.” He laughed humorlessly, and pressed his lips to John’s temple. “ _Je ne t'oublierai jamais_." The boy turned and ran to catch up with the man, leaving John alone in the darkness.

 

Once their footsteps had long faded away, the baker took a shaky breath and stood up. He turned towards the staircase.   
  
  
Alexander was facing the window, and the sight almost made John laugh. It was so familiar, so domestic, as if nobody had told the world that everything had changed.   
  
  
"Alexander." He said softly. "Benjamin."  _ The two loves of my life. _   
  
  
"He said he knew me from somewhere." The man's voice was completely empty. No anger or darkness or sadness. Just nothing. "My own son. And I...I..."   
  
  
"Shh love, it's alright." John saw the body, saw the scene, and understood with an immediate and numbing clarity. He wrapped his arms around Alexander from behind, letting himself sink into the feel of man for just a heartbeat. It didn’t matter. Nothing mattered. "It'll be over soon."   
  
  
"John." He pleaded softly. A whisper. "Please."   
  
  
Alex tilted his head back wordlessly, the sunrise lighting his neck in a yellow glow, and John stumbled slightly, something awakening within his numbness. 

 

“Alex I….I can't.” He said, even as he glanced at the razors the man cherished so deeply.  _ Why does it have to be me?  _

 

“John.” Alex’s eyes were closed, unmoving from his position of chin pointed skyward. “I have asked much of you...and I ask this final thing. Will you make me say it?” He seemed to take the baker’s silence for affirmation. “Kill me.”

 

“I…” John bit his lip and picked up one of the shaving blades, hands trembling ever so slightly.

 

It felt heavy and unfamiliar in his hand, the metal cold and frightening.

 

“They will kill me regardless.” Alex said, voice as empty as John felt. “Don't delude yourself to think your hesitation is merciful. The true mercy would be to end my suffering. Let me see my son again.” John didn't believe in the afterlife, but had he, he knew Alex would not be going where his son surely was.

 

“You have killed something in me.” John confessed, knowing this would be his last chance to do so. “Something I did not know was there. And now you ask me to kill you. To stain my hands with blood. You ask too much of me.”

 

“John,” The barber still, even now, refused to look at him. “I was already dead. They dragged a corpse out of the water and sea and you let a corpse sleep in your bed. What you see is a shadow of the man you really loved. I am his ghost. A copy. And I should have drowned in the water.” 

 

“Yes,” John agreed, stepping closer with acceptance, tears stinging his eyes. “That you should have.”

  
"I did love you, you know." Alex finally blinked his eyes open to look at John, gaze weary. "In my own way....I always loved you."   
  
  
"I know." John blinked his eyes to clear them.   
  
  
And, like a lover's caress, he swiped the blade gently across Alex's throat. The barber closed his eyes, dark blood pouring down his chest, and smiled as a slight trickle ran between his lips and down his chin. The picture of tranquility.   
  
  
John caught Alex as he fell, unaware that he was crying, unaware of the burning in the back of his throat and the dryness of his mouth. He touched the barber's face softly and leaned forward to gently press together their lips, holding the man close to him with a mournful tenderness, letting the blood stain his own lips.   
  
  
Only once the body was cold did he lay Alex down and nestle close beside him, raising the blade to his own throat.

 

* * *

 

  
  
Lafayette closed his eyes, the cool wind of the sea engulfing him completely.

  
They had been on the waters for a couple of days, and he still had yet to tire of how the mist felt across his face, and how he could see nothing but blue whichever direction he looked.

  
All of his young life, he had thought freedom was hand in hand with love. That freedom came in the arms of one who would cherish him, free him from his own mind.

  
But the boy was wrong. _This_ was freedom. He was was free from everything and everyone who had ever wronged him. And now he would return to his sweet country, where the air smelled of freshly baked bread and nobody batted an eye at promiscuity alongside the same sex.

  
"This is a taste of what life has to offer." He murmured to himself and turned at the sound of footsteps approaching.

  
Theodosia appeared at the railing beside him, a blanket tight around her gaunt form. It was the first time the boy had even seen her out of her cabin, although he knew not why. From the bags under her eyes and the weariness of her stance, he guessed perhaps she was feeling ill. He beamed at her charmingly.

  
"Is the sea not beautiful, _Madame_? I could just sail the world."

  
"I have sailed the world." Her voice was faint. Her fingertips traced the wood of the ship lightly, a bitter smile ghosting across her face. "I have seen sights far more enchanting than murky, shit filled water. But in all my travels, child, do you want to know what sight was the most wondrous of all? The most wondrous-yet in the most abundance."

  
" _Oui_ ," He breathed, an uneasiness creeping into his bones. " _Qu'est ce que c'est_?"

  
"The cruelty of man." She gazed out into the dark water, her eyes somewhere far and distant. As if seeing into the past.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Je ne vais pas mourir aujourd'hui=I am not dying today  
> je ne t'oublierai jamais=I will never forget you  
> Qu'est ce que c'est=What is it?
> 
> special shoutout to @Isummondemonsinyourcloset for leaving the most motivating and confidence boosting comments since the very first chapter, god bless you <3


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